


still waiting on that moment (breath is bated)

by confettitty



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexuality, Dubious Consent, F/M, I love angst, KUROO IS IN NURSING, M/M, akaashi definitely has a muscle kink oops, akaashi is bad at feelings, alcohol use, all of them live in a four bedroom apartment dont u love it, bokuto is lowkey a fuckboy but with feelings, he's also very oblivious, i like that im just gonna come back and edit it LOL, i think bokuto is worse at feelings than akaashi is, kageyama is in a frat oops, let me stress AGAIN, minor KageHina, no beta we die like men, shes a baby bean i love her, so much pining ugh, there's definitely some angst in this, there's kurotsuki if u squint kekek, theres a good ending i promise, theres a tiiiiny bit of noncon but nothing serious, theres fluff tho, theres some aggressive sex in this oops, they're all second years, this is just thousands of words of bokuaka trying to figure out what to do w each other, yachi and akaashi are just friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23998975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confettitty/pseuds/confettitty
Summary: Bokuto is Akaashi’s partner-in-crime, except all he really does is pull Akaashi out of his shitty dates in a dramatic, boisterous style he absolutely hates.(or: another college au full of messy emotions that no one asked for)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 112
Kudos: 300





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> welcome back! i've started !! another one !!!! i hate myself smh  
> anyways, introducing ANOTHER bokuaka fic (they've been my muse recently, and it's so bad cause i've got so many ideas to write with them ugh)  
> i'm nearly done writing this, so updates will be really quick !! especially since the chapters are so short LOL im estimating an update (sometimes two) every day! super sorry for the short chapters, each chapter's word count might range drastically because this was meant to be posted as a oneshot, but i was too excited to post HAHA  
> anyway, please enjoy!

This is driving Akaashi crazy.

The girl across from him simply doesn’t know when to stop talking. There’s a time for a place for everything, and Akaashi with his mouth half full of cream-sauced pasta is not it. He doesn’t actually mind that she does almost all of the talking, but she doesn’t stop mentioning her ex, constantly switching between calling him a _“cold-hearted fuckboy”_ and _“hottest man alive.”_ It’s stupidly obvious she isn’t over her ex yet.

He excuses himself to the washroom at the end of his meal, deciding he doesn’t even have an appetite anymore, and whips out his phone after locking himself in one of the stalls.

**Akaashi**

[19:27] Please get me out of here.

**Bokuto**

[19:28] LMAOO is she that bad

**Akaashi**

[19:29] She will not stop talking about her ex.

**Bokuto**

[19:30] k im coming

He arrives back at the table just in time for the server to come to collect their plates. Akaashi slides into his chair, absentmindedly fiddling with the phone in his lap. He can’t care less about what she thinks. He’s tired of upholding his manners in front of someone who isn’t even aware of her own.

“Did you want dessert? Let’s have some dessert,” she says, slipping out the menu. Their server said he would be right back to get their order and leaves them to themselves. Akaashi would’ve said no, but she didn’t really give him the chance to. “How do you feel about ice cream? We can share a slice of their cheesecake. My ex hated cheesecakes, so I’m glad you like them.”

He hates that she assumes he likes cheesecake (he does, but that’s not something he really wants to tell her right at this moment—or any other moment, to be frank), but gives a hum that borderlines apathy.

She places their order for them, but it’s not like Akaashi is going to be having any because Bokuto should be here soon. Akaashi checks the time on his phone. Ten minutes have passed, so where the hell is he?

“Akaashi-san,” she starts, dabbing the red lipstick off her mouth. It leaves a tint behind, which he finds surprising considering how much the napkin smears off. He’s partially aware of the fact that his leg bounces impatiently, but proceeds to answer her so that she knows he’s listening, kind of. “D-Do you maybe want to go back to my—”

“You fucking asshole,” a booming and, unfortunately, _very_ familiar voice sounds from behind him. Everyone in the restaurant turns their heads to the source. Akaashi wants so badly to bury his face in his hands, but he can’t, not when Yui has her full attention on the scene displayed before her.

Akaashi feels a strong grip on the collar of his navy blue shirt—his nice one, might he add—as he’s being pulled out of his seat. He sees the flash of distaste in Bokuto’s eyes, lips curled downwards in a nasty snarl. He finds it surprising that he’s slightly amused.

“You broke my mom’s _heart!”_ Bokuto cries out, releasing his fist to give Akaashi a small push backwards. He nearly stumbles, but he knows the white-haired man could push him several feet if he wanted to. “You took her on dates, slept in her bed, and spent her hard-earned money! How _could_ you?” He steps closer to Akaashi, finger pressing into his chest. “I always knew you were a no-good, son of a bitch, you gold-digging scum.”

People gasp around them, and, honestly, Akaashi feels a little embarrassed now, too. He didn’t expect all of _that_ to fall out of Bokuto’s mouth. With a slight, uncomfortable flush reaching the highs of his cheeks, he sneaks a quick glance behind Bokuto to look at his date. Yui has a hand up to her mouth, and it looks like she’s on the verge of crying. Then, her eyebrows knit together in thought before she stands up abruptly, the suddenness of it so strong it knocks back her chair.

“Why, Akaashi? _Why?”_ Bokuto urges, a glint of mirth in his eyes. He’s shoved to the side roughly, and Akaashi finds himself face-to-face with Yui, who then proceeds to slap him across the face. Ouch.

“How could you do that to a woman?” she yells, the first drop of her tears reaching the pointedness of her chin. She breaks down, and her next words come out in a whisper. “I thought you were different. I was going to give you everything tonight. You looked like you would’ve made a wonderful husband, but all you turned out to be was a _bloody jerk_ with no heart!”

Bokuto clasps a hand over her shoulder, which stills her. “Sorry sweetie, but I’ve got him. This one’s mine to deal with, especially all the pain he caused me and my beautiful mother.” With a flash of a dazzling smile, he drags Akaashi out of the restaurant by the arm, ignoring all the horrified expressions of their audience.

Well, at least Akaashi doesn’t have to pay for the meal.

“Did you have to do that?” Akaashi asks, sliding into the passenger seat of Bokuto’s car. In the side-mirror, he can see the expensive car Yui had driven here in turn out of the parking lot. It must be nice to have a rich daddy, he thinks, turning his attention back to Bokuto with a scowl.

“Absolutely, it was necessary,” he responds nonchalantly, putting his car in reverse to pull out.

Akaashi slinks back into the warmth of his seat with a groan, heels of his palm pressed into his eyelids. “I don’t think I can ever step foot in there again. They’ll probably kick me out.”

“As if they’ll remember an ugly face like yours,” Bokuto snorts.

Akaashi shoots daggers with his eyes, arms crossed over his chest with a sigh. “My mom is going to kill me.”

“I don’t get it,” Bokuto speaks over the music playing through his speakers. His eyes are trained on the road ahead of him as he drives. He has always been a careful driver, contrary to the impression he usually gives off. “You’re still in college. Why does your mom want you to meet someone so badly?”

“I don’t know.” Akaashi shrugs. “I’ve been single my whole life, I guess. _You,_ on the other hand, would never get it.”

Bokuto’s current relationship status is single, and he’s been single for two years now after breaking it off with his high school sweetheart. Akaashi doesn’t truly understand why, though. They were perfect together, but Bokuto always tells him that college is different, college is this and that, college is no place to be tied down. He still doesn’t really get it, but Bokuto’s different in the sense that he actually _has_ met people, just… differently.

“Are you kidding? I haven’t seen anyone since Mika,” he rebuts.

“But you don’t actually _want_ a relationship.”

“Are you saying you do?”

Akaashi’s lips press tight into a firm line. He doesn’t provide an immediate answer, and after a short moment of silence, Bokuto glances over at him. “Well?”

“I don’t know,” the black-haired man lets out, slouching more in his seat, “not really.”

Their conversation about it ends there. Instead, Akaashi gives complaints to the music Bokuto plays, claiming it’s too rowdy and that it hurts his head, which it doesn’t. He just hates the noisy sounds of heavy techno, but also so that he can piss Bokuto off a little.

“You’re old,” Bokuto says, but disconnects his phone to the Bluetooth so Akaashi could play something more to his liking.

“You like jazz?”

“No, not really—”

“Good.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been writing this for twelve hours straight omg,, it's 9am and i haven't sleep yikes  
> ANYWAYS this chapter isn't super eventful, but it picks up a bit more next chapter!

“You know you don’t really have to go on all these dates if you don’t actually  _ like  _ any of them,” Kuroo says lazily, sparing Akaashi a glance from his sprawled-out spot on the couch. Tsukishima appears out of the kitchen with a bowl of cereal in his hand. The smile on his face is amused and disagreeing.

“No, please, or you might stay single forever.”

Akaashi stares him down with distaste as he slips his sneakers on. “I don’t particularly mind that, so cry some more, Kei.” He pulls his coat tighter over his body, hoping it’s enough to keep him warm throughout the night. “Where’s Bokuto?”

Tsukishima’s movements still, sharing a quick side-glance with the spiky-haired male.

“Dunno,” Kuroo speaks after a silence that remained a second too long. “Think he’s out right now.”

“At this time?” Akaashi asks, peering at the clock above the TV screen. He supposes it isn’t unexpected: it  _ is  _ a Friday night. “Whatever, I might be back late, so don’t wait up.”

“Like we’d want to,” Tsukishima deadpans and goes over to take a seat by Kuroo’s head.

“Don’t fart, please,” the latter states, absorbed by his phone.

“I will.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes at the pair before making his exit. The girl he’s meeting tonight seems nice from what he gathered throughout their messages. She’s a year younger, but she attends the same university as him so, hopefully, they’ll have  _ something  _ to talk about together. The wind nips gently at his cheeks, but it isn’t as cold as he had thought.

When he’s almost at the bar, he sends Yachi a message asking where she’s sitting so that he doesn’t look like a fool wandering around for ten minutes because he doesn’t exactly remember her face. Her blonde hair is hard to miss though, he realizes, when he looks to the right by the window seat she had messaged him about. She sits there alone, legs dangling off a chair that looks a little too tall. Even for Akaashi, it might be just enough for his toes to tickle the floor.

He makes his way through the crowd, suddenly very aware of how he looks. People are wearing layers too thin considering the night chill. He feels a little bit underdressed, actually, as he passes by a couple of girls who have their faces dolled up, arms hanging onto two men. He briefly glances down at his own clothes, but arguably decides he doesn’t give a shit. He closes in on the girl, who looks up to meet his eyes with an excited grin.

She looks… cute, sporting a skirt with a thin sweater. She doesn’t have a jacket anywhere. She also appears to have had a couple of drinks, which Akaashi takes as a bit of a red flag. Alcohol in her system before meeting a guy for the first time?

With a little smile, he slides into the stool across from hers. “I’m Akaashi Keiji,” he introduces himself. To his surprise, she sticks out a hand with her own introduction.

“I’m Yachi!”

They shake hands, and hers feels warm and soft, but a little sweaty. He can understand why, though. He slips his jacket off his shoulders. Maybe he had made a mistake: the bar is warming him up really, really fast.

“Did you drink?” he asks immediately.

“A little, but I feel fine,” she shrugs, legs still swinging. She looks a little sad, but she does well to hide it. Akaashi isn’t sure whether he should comment on it or not. “Should we get a drink? I’ll pay for it, since I invited you out so late and so last-minute, too—which I’m very, very sorry about! It’s just…”

Akaashi listens, but she hesitates. Blinking and slightly concerned, he asks, “Is something wrong?”

“Ah, no, not really. I was just a little lonely.”

“Well, you were drinking by yourself,” he muses. She’s actually quite nice. She might be one of the first girls he’s enjoyed being around, which is kind of saying a lot. However, they’ve only just met. Sometimes, they always start out nice.

“I wasn’t!” she exclaims, hands shaking in front of her. “I was, um, with a couple of friends.” A small sigh leaves her lips, but she picks up her smile quickly. “Anyways, did you want something?”

Akaashi hums, “Maybe a beer. I’ll go pick it up, so don’t worry about it. Did you want a drink as well? Some water?”

“No, I kind of want another beer. I’ll come with you!” Akaashi unhooks his jacket from his seat in case someone else snatches their table. He’d rather lose their spot and have to find another one than to risk losing his jacket. As much as he hates it, Bokuto had spent a lot of time looking for the exact design after Akaashi had pointed out how nice it was. It wasn’t anything—Akaashi doesn’t even care much for expensive clothes—but Bokuto had gone out of the way to get it for him as a birthday gift despite how much Akaashi pushed the offer away.

They find another spot with their drinks in their hands. Yachi is a talkative person, but also very observant. She asks Akaashi interesting questions and provides responses equally as interesting, and Akaashi finds himself having a good time on one of his dates for the first time.

“I have a question, Akaashi-kun,” she asks. She plays with her fingers in her lap, as if unsure.

“Go ahead,” he speaks, swirling the leftover foam in his glass. It’s been an hour since they’ve started talking, and he actually thinks he’s willing to go out on another date with her. She’s nice, his mom will like her, probably.

She asks him why he’s using the dating app. It appears out of nowhere and is significantly different from anything else they’ve talked about tonight. He blinks, not entirely following, but he gives the first response he has prepared whenever people ask him the same question. “I’m looking for someone. Kinda.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, mouth dropping open.  _ “Really?” _ she asks, enthusiasm returning. “That’s so… sorry, I just. The guys who use dating apps aren’t usually actually looking for… something like that. I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Akaashi supposes she’s right. Dating apps these days usually meant one thing and one thing only, especially for campus students.

“What about you?” he asks.

“Me?”

“Yeah, why do you use it?”

“Ah…” Yachi’s smile falters slightly. “I’m not really… looking for anything. I actually hardly use it. My friends were just urging me to see someone.”

Akaashi can’t say he’s not disappointed, but he isn’t entirely bothered, either. He isn’t desperate for a relationship, either. His mom will just have to wait a little bit more.

“Speaking of your friends, where did they go?” His curiosity piques again since he had been wondering about that from the start.

“Oh, they left me. I don’t know where they went, and they’re not answering my messages either,” Yachi responds with a casual shrug. She seems used to this, and Akaashi finds an unfamiliar discomfort settling at the pit of his stomach. What kind of friends do that? Dump someone in the middle of a crowded bar late at night without a notion as to where they’ve gone?

“That’s not really nice,” he comments. He had been unsure as to whether or not he should say something about it, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“It’s okay, it happens.”

“If you’re okay with it, I’d like to call you a cab home whenever you’d like to leave,” he offers. She looks up, surprised but also a little relieved. Her eyes are a little teary, but she seems to be able to hold them back.

“T-That’s okay! I can order a cab myself. I’ll probably go soon, too. Thank you for hanging out with me tonight. I was really sad. I—sorry, I just… wanted to say that even though I’m not looking for anything, you seem to be a really nice person. I’d like to be friends with you, if that’s all right,” Yachi says. Her voice is quieter, but Akaashi is able to just pick up her words.

"I'm not really, either. My mom is just desperate for me to meet someone, so I just go along with it. And of course, friends would be nice.” He smiles softly and leans back into his seat to let her make a call for a cab. Akaashi walks her to the door when her cab is here, and she smiles just one last time.

“Thank you!” she beams. “I’ll see you again!”

He watches her get into the cab before deciding he’ll head home, too. He feels like he had a very eventful and productive day. He’s quite glad he met her, even though neither of them were really interested in the possibility of a relationship, as much as they enjoyed themselves tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY ARE JUST FRIENDS I PROMISE  
> a little bit of the noncon pops in early next chap.. im SORRY i promise everything is okay tho  
> SEE U GUYS IN A BIT MIGHT POST AGAIN TODAY KEK


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH YES, AGAIN  
> i've finally finished, so i will be updating regularly! i will be adding a few bonus chapters though because i wanted to end this with a lighter atmosphere hehe.  
> enjoy !!1!
> 
> warning: slight dubcon, please don't hate atsumu i really needed a small villain in this story fshkdj

Akaashi pushes his way through the crowd, searching for a washroom to relieve himself before he leaves. He actually hates bars. He hardly went in his first year despite all the begging from his friends and he still doesn't go. Occasionally they managed to drag him out, but he never stayed for long. He’s never gone to a club, though, and he’s sure he’ll  _ never  _ go. This bar is pretty much a club, though. People were drunk and dancing, and it’s _s_ _ o  _ full Akaashi actually finds that he’s stumbling through the crowd. He hates that the washroom lines are at the opposite end, and he also hates that they’re fucking long, too. He’s about to join the end of the lineup when someone pulls him away. Hands rest on his hips immediately and Akaashi freezes. If he had been uncomfortable before, there’s no explaining just how he’s feeling now.

The stranger rotates their hips, hands coming around to the front to loop an arm around his middle. Akaashi grabs the arm and shoves it off, but the person is persistent. They pull him right back and stronger than before.

“What the  _ fuck,” _ he hisses, forcibly turning around to glare at the person. He comes face-to-face with a boy with a blonde undercut, heavy-lidded eyes staring straight into his.

“‘Sup?” he says as if amused with the situation.

“You’re ugly,” Akaashi says, straight-faced, “now let me go.”

“You’re saying you’d let someone handle you like this if they were attractive?” the man muses, hand clutching tightly over Akaashi’s waist. “Have a little more respect for yourself, especially with such a pretty face like yours.”

“That’s counterintuitive,” Akaashi spits, fingernails digging into the man’s wrist, “considering you. Please let me go.”

“Why don't you give me a chance?”

Akaashi gives the man a hard push. They’re roughly the same height, but he’s a lot more built than the black-haired male is. His attempts are futile. He’s really sweaty amongst all the bodies, the music hurts his ears, and he still really needs to pee. For a moment, he wishes Bokuto were here. He usually is at the ready when Akaashi goes on his dates in case he desperately needs to be pulled out, but Yachi’s request had been a little last-minute and Bokuto had already run off somewhere. Why is it that whenever he needs him most, the boy is always busy and gone?

“You realize this isn’t legal,” Akaashi states calmly. He would never win in a fight of strength, but he does acknowledge his skillsets when they have to do with the brain. “I could report you, and you would have it on your record forever.”

“Oh? But you’re not exactly resisting, are you?” the man asks, dipping his head to nose along the length of Akaashi’s neck. In retaliation, he turns the other way, hand coming up to push the man’s face off him. He’s peeved; he does not like this  _ one bit. _

A strong grip on his chin turns him to face the man. “Don’t be like that, baby,” he says, voice dripping with rotten honey.

“Atsumu! What the  _ fuck _ are you doing?” The grip around the small his back is loosened, and Akaashi takes this chance to give the man a harsh shove back. He shudders, hand coming over his waist as if to mend an imaginary injury the man had inflicted.  _ Disgusting fuck,  _ Akaashi thinks, turning on his heels only to bump into a hard chest. A strong arm supports him before he could stumble onto his butt.

“Akaashi?”

Blinking to readjust his focus—he admits he’s a little tipsy; he’s always been a light drinker—he’s surprised to meet a familiar pair of golden eyes.

“Bokuto?” he asks, as if unsure whether or not it really is him. The arm holding him up is very real, though, and he recognizes the cologne Bokuto always wears. There’s something about it that just smells  _ so good,  _ and Akaashi subconsciously leans in closer. The flash of anger in Bokuto’s eyes catches him off guard, however, and Bokuto is gone and behind him in an instant.

“The hell were you doing, Atsumu?” Bokuto bellows, having trouble keeping his voice down. Akaashi is conflicted: is Bokuto friends with someone like this guy? He would have never imagined he’d have mutual friends with such a person,  _ especially  _ not someone like Bokuto.

“Sheesh, sorry, didn’t realize he was off-limits,” Atsumu dismisses passively. His eyes land on Akaashi’s, and the black-haired male’s face twists in dissatisfaction.

“He isn’t, but to you, he is,” Bokuto reminds, then turns to face Akaashi again. “I’m so sorry, he’s fucking stupid.”

_ Yeah, he is, _ Akaashi thinks, eyes glaring straight at the blonde.

“I’ll get you home. I’m just about to leave, too.”

“No, you go,” Akaashi states, turning on his heels. He doesn’t want to talk to Bokuto right now, not to mention he still has to use the washroom. The line has cleared up by now, so he makes a beeline for one of the vacant stalls. Bokuto follows him in, waiting for him by the sinks.

“I’m really sorry, Akaashi,” Bokuto apologizes for the second time when Akaashi emerges to wash his hands. He blinks the blurriness in his eyes away and wills his head to stop spinning. His ears ring from the crazy volume out on the dance floor and he wonders for a quick moment if it might shorten his lifespan.

“Not your fault,” he says, brushing past the taller man to get the wetness off his hands under the hand dryer. His responses are short and clipped, and he hopes Bokuto catches the hint and leaves him alone. “I’m leaving.” He exits the washroom without waiting for the other boy, heading straight for the exit.

“I called a cab,” Bokuto says, catching up to him quickly.

Akaashi slides into the front, forcing the other into the back. The ride is silent and Akaashi is sure the cab driver notices the heavy tension in the air. It’s so thick it’s almost tangible, as if a single move will easily slice through it.

“I didn’t know you were coming out tonight,” Bokuto mumbles from behind him, breaking the silence. He sounds unsure, but Akaashi knows he doesn’t like quiet, not when there’s a very stressed atmosphere.

“I didn’t know you were friends with an asshole,” Akaashi bites back, arms crossed. He can tell Bokuto is upset, but he isn’t in the highest mood himself, either.

“I’m not. He’s a mutual friend, but I don’t talk to him ‘cause I don’t like him. He’s selfish and only cares about himself,” Bokuto explains with a hint of annoyance in his voice, like the mere mention of the blonde ticks him off.

“I can tell,” Akaashi states bluntly.

Their conversation ends there, and the rest of the drive is better; a little less tense, but Akaashi still doesn’t feel comfortable. He just wants to climb into bed and sleep until tomorrow afternoon. He pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket, expecting a text from Yachi, which he does receive. It was sent roughly twenty minutes ago, but it’s to notify him that she got home safe.

He messages her a quick goodnight before tucking it away. Despite what had happened, he’s still a little glad he went out to meet Yachi tonight. He hopes that she feels a little better.

“What are you thinking about?” Bokuto asks as they walk up to the front door. Akaashi shoves the lock into the door and twists the handle until it pops open and they head inside together. Tsukishima is nowhere to be found, and it seems as though Kuroo hasn’t moved from his spot since Akaashi had left earlier.

“A hot shower,” he responds, a little late. He toes his shoes off at the entrance before stomping down the hallway. Bokuto follows him, hand catching his thin wrist before he reaches his bedroom.

“I said it’s fine—”

To his surprise, Bokuto pulls him into a tight hug. Akaashi’s nose is buried into the side of the taller male’s cheek, slightly sticky with dried sweat, but the arms crossed over his back and shoulder blades feel oddly comforting.

“I don’t want that to ever happen to you again. Call me whenever you’re in trouble, please,” Bokuto says quietly. He rubs Akaashi’s shoulder with his thumb, soothing out the tightness there.

After a pause, Akaashi sighs. “It’s okay. I doubt I’ll ever go to a bar again.”

“Still,” Bokuto persists, pulling back and holding Akaashi away at an arm’s length, “if you ever need help, just give me a call or shoot me a text. Like when you go on your dates!”

“Okay,” Akaashi mumbles, unable to look into the other man’s eyes.

“Wait, why were you even there?”

“Uh, I was meeting someone.”

“Like, another date?”

“Kind of.” Akaashi shrugs. He doesn’t really know if he wants to continue this conversation, and he doesn’t know why because Bokuto generally knows as many details as Akaashi tells him after his dates. He doesn’t want to tell him that this one went better than he expected, that Yachi is a nice girl, and that they decided to keep in contact despite not wanting anything more.

Finding the lack of response odd, Bokuto presses, “Well? How’d it go?”

“Not bad,” is all Akaashi gives before he turns to hide inside his room and undress, ready for a long, steamy shower. He’s slipped his shirt off hastily and is about to strip down to his skin and bones when his bedroom door slams open.

_ “Jesus,  _ Koutarou, what the  _ fuck,” _ Akaashi curses with a hand on his racing heart. No one else lives here besides the four of them and Akaashi doesn’t necessarily care since half of them walk around half-naked all the time, but the surprise had still been able to raise panic to his throat.

“Shit, sorry,” Bokuto says, closing the door a little. In the darkness, Akaashi can’t really make out the expression on the white-haired boy’s face, but the moon provides just enough light for him to see that Bokuto is staring at him quietly.

“What?” Akaashi asks, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. It’s not  _ not  _ normal for him to have his shirt off, but he isn’t really like Bokuto or Kuroo who enjoy walking around the apartment with their bare chest out in all its glory.

“Oh,” Bokuto says suddenly, as if shaken from deep thought, “nothing. I was just wondering if that means you’re gonna continue seeing her.”

Akaashi blinks, shoulders relaxing. Oh. That’s it?

“Uh, well, it didn’t really go like that. Neither of us were looking to date, but she was nice. She wants to stay friends,” he explains. He feels awkward standing there, not knowing what to do with his hands as he had been in the middle of taking off the rest of his clothes.

“I see,” Bokuto says quietly with a nod. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, barge in on you or anything.”

“Apology not accepted,” Akaashi states with a small scoff, walking toward his door to close it again. Bokuto takes a step back with a pout.

“Akaashiiiii,” Bokuto whines, jutting his bottom lip out further, and bringing his hands up to clasp them together in front of his chest. “I’m sowwyyy. Pwease fowgive Bokuto?”

“You’re gross.” Akaashi slams the door a little harder than necessary in hopes that the other doesn’t catch the small smile adorning his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> isnt bokuto just the cutest bab.. i love him sm


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS AN ACTUALLY UNBETAD HAHAHA  
> im gonna QUICKLY UPDATE  
> get out of my shower and change and then beta it while i eat something JDSKDFJ  
> it's a longer chapter again (i couldn't find the right cut-off anywhere) and even then the cut-off is still kind of awkward oops  
> anyways, enjoy!

Akaashi’s Monday lectures are boring as usual and he’s  _ so  _ tired he considers dipping early from his last one until he realizes he has a midterm for the class a couple of weeks from now. He had been kept up late because Kuroo wouldn’t stop yelling every time Tsukishima beat him at a game in Mario Kart. They often had game nights on Sunday nights, but Akaashi decided to head to bed earlier, not that he could have slept with Kuroo’s stupid voice anyway.

He had stepped back out to make some chamomile tea to find that Bokuto hadn’t moved from his spot at the kitchen dining table. He had his music turned up so loudly Akaashi could hear the repetitive sounds of his typical headbanging music from his AirPods. His face was hidden behind his laptop, glancing up and down between whatever was on the screen and his notebook.

The smell of coffee and tea wafted throughout their apartment as Akaashi leaned against the back of Bokuto’s chair, staring at the math problems on the screen. Bokuto seemed to be getting the hang of them—Akaashi has never doubted Bokuto’s academic intelligence, just the bad life choices he makes sometimes, such as cramming. He stood there glancing over his work until the hot water was done boiling. He poured himself some chamomile tea in hopes that it would put him to bed easier and a large mug of black instant coffee for Bokuto.

He had pulled an AirPod out of one ear and reminded the white-haired boy to get some sleep before his exam. Akaashi wished—and still wishes—that it could be any other way, but Bokuto doesn’t listen: he’ll always pull a near all-nighter cramming for exams.

The professor dismisses the class ten minutes earlier, and Akaashi wakes from his thoughts. He packs up his stuff and starts his walk home from his building. He hadn’t even paid attention to the lecture in the last remaining minutes, he should’ve just left.

On his way out of the lecture hall, he bumps into one of the students waiting to get in for their next lecture. With a mumbled apology, Akaashi continues brushing by the wave of students until someone catches on to his wrist.

“Oh? It’s you,” an unfortunately distinctive voice says.

“Atsumu,” Akaashi says blandly. He still hasn’t gotten over what happened last time, and he really,  _ really  _ wishes he could give this guy a punch in the gut right now. The other guy releases his hold around his wrist, as if he recognized it probably made him uncomfortable, which it did.

“We’re on a first-name basis?”

“No.”

“I didn’t know you were in psych.” There’s that stupid smile on his face again. Akaashi feels a chill crawl up his spine.

“I’m not,” he lies. He wants to go home.

“An elective, then?”

“Doesn’t matter. See you,” Akaashi replies, trying his best to make it obvious he doesn’t give a shit about their conversation or Atsumu at all.

“Hey, wait!” Akaashi is stopped in his steps when Atsumu finds his spot in front of the black-haired male. “Why don’t I buy you a coffee? As an apology.”

“I don’t forgive you,” Akaashi deadpans and closes his eyes to steady his breathing. This guy is seriously getting on his nerves.

“Why not?”

Akaashi snaps. His next words come out angrier than he had anticipated, “What makes you think I  _ should?  _ What you did was inappropriate and was borderline harassment. I’m not going to forgive you because you don’t know where you stepped out of line.”

Nearby students glance at them but make no move to interrupt. It’s not their business, so they have no reason to engage. It’s how it usually goes. Everyone has their own shit to deal with, and as much as Akaashi would like to deal with his shit somewhere more private, Atsumu clearly doesn’t seem to get that.

With arms raised in defence and a frown, the blonde takes a step back. “All right, I get it. Sorry.” Akaashi stomps past him, willing himself to calm down. The cold breeze from outside hits his face, soothing over the tension in his neck and shoulders. He might literally stop showing up to this lecture if it means he will have a chance of running into Atsumu again.

“What’s up with you?” Kuroo asks, looking up from his laptop. He spins the pen in his hands before dropping it onto his notes and sliding his glasses off the bridge of his nose. Akaashi heaves a sigh as he slides into the chair across from the other.

“Ran into someone.”

“Someone who…?” Kuroo presses, as if discovering that someone other than Bokuto who could piss Akaashi off more is extremely interesting.

“His name’s Atsumu.” Akaashi hopes the name will ring bells in Kuroo’s head and that he has had his own unfortunate incidents with the man so that he doesn’t have to explain his own situation.

“Kinda know him, not really, though. What’d he do?”

“I was at the bar.”

“Oh, I see,” Kuroo states, catching on already. Despite his looks, much like Bokuto, he’s smarter than what he actually gives off. He slumps back in his chair, eyes tracing over Akaashi’s expression. “Are you okay?”

“He didn’t really do anything,” Akaashi sighs, loosening his arms from his coat. He pulls his own laptop out of his backpack before getting out of his seat to go to his bedroom. “He was persistent, though.”

“Sounds like a dick,” Kuroo mutters, slipping his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“He is,” he says before disappearing down the hallway. His feet stop outside Bokuto’s room. His lectures should have ended by now, but he doubts he even went considering how little sleep he got last night. He knocks gently, pressing his ear against the door to listen for signs of movement. When he hears nothing, he pops the door open slightly to find the other boy sprawled out on the bed. His room is a mess (not a surprise), his lamp hasn’t been turned off, and half of his blanket is on the floor. He sleeps on his chest, arms up and under his pillows, and a thick leg dangles off the edge of the bed.

Akaashi steps quietly into the room, clicks the light shut, and pulls the covers back over Bokuto’s body. He stirs in his sleep, and Akaashi pauses, not wanting to wake him up, but more because his eyes are heavily trained on the way the other boy’s back muscles move and flex under smooth, tan skin. A lump grows in his throat and he suddenly finds that his mouth is very, very dry. He slips the blanket over Bokuto before exiting quickly, nearly stumbling on one of Bokuto’s sneakers on his way out. He glances back to make sure the boy hasn’t woken and isn’t surprised to find him unmoving. If Akaashi hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Bokuto was dead.

With a sigh, he returns to the dining table where Tsukishima has joined them with a couple of his own textbooks.

“When’s your next midterm?” Kuroo asks, not looking up from his textbook.

Akaashi doesn’t have to ask to know that he’s the one Kuroo is talking to. He probably already knows when all of Tsukishima’s exams are. “Uh, two weeks.”

“You’re studying for it now?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not Bokuto,” he retorts, popping his laptop open. “Plus, I’m helping conduct some research for one of my profs, so I’ll be pretty busy these next few days, considering I have other things to do in my life.”

“You do?” Tsukishima asks redundantly.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t know.” Akaashi rolls his eyes and flips through his textbook to begin reviewing his chapters.

“Don’t wanna know.”

Bokuto wakes up some time throughout their studying. Akaashi hears the door open before he sees him appear around the corner. He’s only in his boxers, which isn’t necessarily an unfamiliar sight, but his exposedness is a reminder of Akaashi’s recognition of his earlier incident. Bokuto shouldn’t know, obviously. Hopefully. He looks away quickly, rejecting the flush that’s creeping up his neck.

“What time is it?” Bokuto asks groggily and rubs at his eyes. He busies himself with the water boiler, preparing spoonfuls of instant coffee mix into his favourite mug.

“Time to get a watch,” Kuroo snickers, leaning back to take a big stretch. Akaashi grimaces at the multiple pops. Maybe the spiky-haired boy should get some rest. He doesn’t know how long he’s been straight studying for, but he had been sitting here before Akaashi got back from his lectures, and Akaashi has been back for a long time.

“Time to get a new joke,” Bokuto snaps back, clearly unimpressed.

“All right, I think I’m gonna head to bed,” Kuroo tells them, stifling a yawn.

“It’s, like, eleven,” Bokuto comments, peeking at the time on Kuroo’s laptop.

“Yeah, but I’ve got an early clinical tomorrow.” He proceeds to pack up his stuff, putting his glasses back in its casing. “Goodnight, my babies,” he coos, blowing kisses in their direction, which the three of them respond with a face of feigned disgust, and heads for his bedroom.

“Nursing sounds hard,” Bokuto mumbles, sliding into the seat next to Akaashi’s. Their thighs brush against each other’s and it doesn’t help that Akaashi’s in his basketball shorts. The hairs on Bokuto’s leg tickle the bareness of Akaashi’s milky skin, so he moves it away. He ignores the observing look Bokuto gives him.

“It is, but Kuroo’s pretty good at what he does, so I wouldn’t be worried,” Akaashi responds, eyes not lifting from his textbook. He’s gotten through a couple of chapters and a half while having time to pick out important details to etch into his mind by noting them down. He’s trying to read, but his eyes keep scanning the same lines over and over again. Bokuto is close, chin resting on Akaashi’s shoulder as he takes in what he’s studying. He can’t really focus—is he tired? Maybe it’s time to get some sleep. He didn’t exactly sleep well the night before.

“What are you going to do now that you’ve slept through the entire day?” Tsukishima muses. It seems that he’s about ready to pack up, too, and that leaves Akaashi conflicted. He doesn’t really want to leave Bokuto alone after having just woken up, but he  _ is  _ feeling a little drained, now that he’s thinking about it.

“Probably play some Minecraft, and then I’ve gotta get started on my lab,” Bokuto responds with a grunt at the thought of having to stare at a computer screen some more.

“Are you done with all your midterms?” Akaashi asks, finally deciding to look at the boy. It’s a mistake though, because Bokuto’s face is still on his chin, and he’s  _ much  _ closer than he had expected. Bokuto’s nose brushes against his cheek before Akaashi’s suddenly turning away, slightly embarrassed, and he wonders why.

There’s a short pause before Bokuto replies. Tsukishima is observing them curiously, but it doesn’t show on his face. Akaashi wishes he is able to mask his expression as well as the blonde. “No, I’ve got two more, but they’re next month.”

Bokuto’s words are still laced with sleepiness, but the coffee must be helping because he stands up with newfound excitement. “I made a new Minecraft server after my exam! Do you wanna play with me?”

Akaashi shakes his head. “No, I’ll watch you. I wanna try to finish this chapter before I go to bed.”

Bokuto scurries off to his bedroom to grab his things, leaving the other two students at the table. Akaashi feels eyes on him, and he turns to see Tsukishima, amused.

“What?” he asks with a slight glare.

“Oh, nothing.” Tsukishima picks up his stuff. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Akaashi responds, then sighs back at the textbook. The amount of words on each page is overwhelming. This is nothing compared to last year when they were all first-years. It had been so much easier back then. He had more free time, and as much as he had hated going out for nightlife, he absolutely loved spending his Friday and Saturday nights with his floormates playing drinking games and watching movies. Bokuto had been on another floor, but he always came down to hang out with Akaashi. The white-haired boy had always been sad that Akaashi opted for a single room instead of sharing a double with him, but they realized it ultimately didn’t matter. They saw each other every single day anyway— _ had _ been seeing each other every single day since they were old enough to go to school.

Bokuto used to be smaller and shorter than him, but he was always louder and held the full attention of anyone and everyone easily. Akaashi was always one of the taller ones in his classes, and he’s still pretty tall, but he had been one of Bokuto’s quieter friends. It was like they were made for each other; where Akaashi lacks, Bokuto fills up for him, and vice versa. Bokuto had always been popular, too. People often laughed at his jokes and loved his sense of humour. Eighth grade came around and suddenly, he was capturing the attention of many girls, too. He had developed a lot of muscle due to club volleyball over the duration of one summer after deciding he wanted to play competitively. He had grown up to about Akaashi’s height, too. And even though Akaashi was growing, Bokuto just seemed to be getting bigger and taller. Bokuto met Mika in the first month of high school and they dated all the way until the last week of their senior year. They spent significantly less time together, but Akaashi prided himself in knowing Bokuto would drop Mika in a heartbeat if it meant the black-haired male needed him.

“What are you thinking about, loser?” Bokuto asks, pressing a finger into Akaashi’s temple. Akaashi blinks out of his thoughts, surprised that he had gotten so distracted, and by  _ Bokuto  _ of all people.

“Nothing, idiot,” Akaashi mutters, bringing his focus back to his textbook. “Just tired, I think.”

“Do you want to sleep?”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna finish this chapter first,” Akaashi responds with a hand rubbing at his eyes. Bokuto stands up with all his stuff, motioning for the black-haired boy to follow him.

Confused, Akaashi asks, “Where are we going?” but grabs his stuff anyway.

“My room.”

Akaashi blinks, following the other boy into his room. It’s a little more cleaned up, but his bed isn’t made (it never is). Akaashi plops face-down onto the mattress after dropping all his stuff on the far end of the bed.  _ This is comfortable,  _ he thinks, head rested on his crossed arms. He closes his eyes for just a few seconds before Bokuto’s shaking him awake.

His face is close and Akaashi can feel the breath on his cheek, but he oddly feels at ease. “Are you sure you want to keep studying? You should really sleep if you’re tired,” Bokuto suggests, then removes his hand to sit down at his table, Minecraft server opened up to fullscreen.

Akaashi wills himself into a sitting position, pulling his textbook over his crossed legs. “What makes you think I’m gonna take advice about sleeping from you, Mr. All-Nighter?”

Bokuto snorts. “You’re not the one for making bad decisions, Akaashi.”

“Hey, I can make bad decisions if I want to,” Akaashi retorts. He can’t really focus. He’s always liked talking to Bokuto. Studying beside him has always been hard until neither of them are speaking anymore.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like not sleeping. And if I don’t sleep, I’m not studying. Either way, they’re both bad decisions, so you lose,” Akaashi explains, a small grin dancing upon his lips.

“Wanna make another bad decision?” Bokuto pipes up, eyes still trained to his screen. Akaashi glances up from his textbook, eyeing the little hairs at the back of Bokuto’s neck.

“What are you talking about?”

Bokuto pauses his game and spins on his chair to face Akaashi. “Well,” he starts, sheepish, “I know you don’t really like parties and—”

“No.”

“Wait, just listen—”

“No.”

“Akaashiiii,” Bokuto whines, stomping his foot on the ground with a pout on his lips.

“Fine, I’ll listen, but I’m still not going to go.”

“Okay! So, Kageyama’s frat is throwing a party and he invited our intramural volleyball team. Most of them are going! Don’t you want to see them again? Even Hinata’s going. He really misses you, and you never drop by anymore. Plus, liquor is on the house,” Bokuto explains, scooching forward to the edge of his seat in anticipation.

“That’s dangerous. I don’t want to drink a frat’s sweaty alcohol.”

“But it’s Kageyama’s frat, you know they’re different,” Bokuto persists with a sad pout.

“All frats are the same.”

“Please! I’ll make dinner for a week.”

Akaashi glares at the boy. He’s usually the one to make dinner for everyone when he’s home for dinner, which is usually. For Bokuto to suggest something like that makes Akaashi consider it, but only for a split second.

“You know there are two other people living here, right?”

“Yes, I’ll make enough for everyone. One week.”

Akaashi gives no reply, eyes dragging over the ugly words on the page.

“Two weeks.”

“Fine.”

“YES!” Bokuto pumps his fist as if he had just won the lottery.

Akaashi rolls his eyes. “When is it?”

“This Saturday. I’ll let the team know you’re coming! Kuroo and Tsukishima are going, too.”

At that, Akaashi looks up with a sputter.  _ “Tsukishima’s  _ going?”

“Yeah, I know right? He didn’t say he would go until Kuroo would go, though,” Bokuto says, spinning on his chair to get back into his game again. Akaashi leans against the headboard, thinking about what Bokuto had said. He’s dreading this party already, and it’s only Monday—well, a glance at the clock tells him it’s Tuesday morning now. He supposes he is excited to see everyone again, even Oikawa. He’s mostly missing Shoyo, though. He’s like Bokuto, but smaller, with orange hair.

At some point throughout his studying, Bokuto had switched to League of Legends. A string of curses falls out of his mouth when he dies, then gets to button smashing something into the chat. Akaashi doesn’t need to see, but he guesses it’s something toxic.

“Maybe you just need to get good instead of blaming your teammates,” Akaashi muses from his spot. He had gotten through the rest of his chapter and more, finding that the sleepiness had slipped away when he got immersed in his studies again. It slowly creeps back in, though.

“Yeah, except they’re trash. No wonder I’m stuck in Gold. I can’t get better if I’m losing ‘cause of my stupid teammates.”

Akaashi lets out a chuckle, arm falling over his eyes to block some of the light out. He decides to take a break. Just a very, very small one….


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE PARTY IS ABOUT TO GET STARTED HEHEHE

Akaashi jolts awake, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t set an alarm for last night, before realizing he isn’t in his own room. He’s in Bokuto’s. Blinking out of his daze, he glances around sleepily. Bokuto isn’t here, and the door is slightly ajar so that a sliver of light from the hallway spills in. He searches around blindly with his hands for his phone, but he can’t seem to find it. The door opens with a creak, and Akaashi spins to see Bokuto nursing a cup of something steaming in his hands.

“Bad dream?” Bokuto asks, kicking the door shut behind him.

“No, I forgot to set an alarm,” Akaashi admits, voice just barely above a whisper. “Do you know where my phone is?”

“I’m charging it over there, but don’t worry about it. I was gonna wake you up anyway. I have your schedule memorized.” Bokuto’s chair groans with his weight.

“Can you get me some water?” Akaashi slumps back into bed, missing the warmth already.

Bokuto tosses his water bottle on the bed, landing next to Akaashi with a thump. “Here.”

“What if you had hit me?” Akaashi sits up slightly with the support on one of his arms and the other hand squeezing water into his mouth.

“Don’t worry, I don’t miss.”

“Gross.”

Akaashi falls asleep quickly, the sounds of Bokuto’s fingers dancing across his keyboard fading further and further away. The next time he wakes up is with Bokuto’s big, warm hand shaking him out of his slumber.

“Mm,” Akaashi hums, pulling the covers over his head. They smell like Bokuto, and Akaashi wishes he could breathe it in forever.

“Wake up or I’ll squash you.”

Akaashi should’ve listened and he’s not sure why he doesn’t, but he finds that he’s regretting it rather quickly when a crushing weight plops down on top of him. “I’m two hundred pounds,” he adds, curling his arms and legs around Akaashi’s figure, still hidden under the blankets.

When Akaashi doesn’t move, Bokuto lifts his weight, slightly concerned. “Did you die?” He pulls the covers down just enough to see Akaashi glaring at him through sleepy eyes. He’s out of breath, cheeks red from lack of oxygen.

“You’re insanely fat,” he managed to breathe out, eyebrows scrunched together.

“No, I’m thick with three C’s, there’s a difference.” Bokuto sits up, sliding off Akaashi and into the spot beside him. Akaashi turns on his side to face the boy, whose eyes are closed and nose raised to the ceiling.

“Were you up all night?” Akaashi asks, bundling the blanket around him.

“Yeah, but I finished my lab. Now I just have to demo it to my TA, but that’s tomorrow so I can relax today,” Bokuto responds. He opens his eyes, then turns to face Akaashi.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Fine, I guess. I still can’t believe you had to throw two hundred pounds of pure fat on me, though.”

“You think I’m fat? Look at these,” Bokuto boasts, pulling up his jersey to expose strong abdominal muscles under taut skin. Akaashi has to literally force his gaze away after staring at them for too long by sitting up and tossing the blanket over the other boy.

“Still fat,” he comments, but before he gets up, he feels hands at his waist, fingertips digging into the squishiness.

“You sure you’re the one to talk? Feeling a little soft there, ‘kaashi.”

Suddenly self-conscious, Akaashi turns to glare at the boy, hands protecting his waist. It’s not his fault he hasn’t had the time to go to the gym every day as Bokuto does. He’s not _soft,_ but he isn’t all bulky muscles like Bokuto, either.

“I’m perfect,” he hmphs, grabbing his laptop and books.

“Have you been secretly meeting up with Oikawa lately? Seems like he’s kind of rubbing off on you,” Bokuto tells him with a boisterous laugh. The flush that reaches Akaashi’s face is hard to hide, so he turns on his heels and exits Bokuto’s room to take a fresh shower.

“Stupid Bokuto,” he mutters to himself on his way down the hallway to his room. “Idiot Bokuto.”

  
  
  


The party is tonight. Bokut pops into his room unannounced, dressed head-to-toe in Hawaiian style clothing. He wears a pair of khaki shorts and brown Birkenstocks with a flowery button-up, except it isn’t buttoned up at all. A pink plastic lei sits around his neck and a pair of dark sunglasses rest on top of his head. He looks stupid (stupidly hot, Akaashi thinks, but doesn’t tell him that, obviously—there’s nothing dumber than boosting an already-inflated ego. He shouldn’t even be having thoughts like those, especially not as his best friend). Akaashi shakes the thoughts out of his head. What was he _thinking?_

“Am I missing something, or…?”

“I forgot to tell you, it’s island-themed!” Bokuto exclaims, flipping the sides of his shirt behind him as he poses.

“You look ridiculous,” Akaashi says from his seat at the table. He had been studying before Bokuto decided to interrupt him.

“You have to dress up.”

“That’s too much work. Plus, I don’t think I even _have_ anything like that,” Akaashi groans, turning his attention back to his books. He doesn’t even know if he should still go. He’s almost done studying, but he’s always told himself he can never study too much. There is always something to read.

“How boring,” Bokuto says, kicking the door shut behind him. He peers over Akaashi's work. “I have some clothes. Take a break, you’ve literally been studying since you got home from your lectures.”

“The party is literally hours away.”

“Yeah, but you have to get ready! We’re also going to pregame before going, so we don’t actually have _that_ much time.” Bokuto urges him into the shower while he finds something for him to wear. With a sigh, Akaashi steps into the shower to wash up, fingers combing coconut shampoo between his strands. The water feels nice on his body, but his back feels a little tense. He should maybe get a massage after midterms are over.

He steps out in his towel, wondering how they were even going to get to the frat house without freezing their asses off when a sudden yelp directs his direction to the common area.

“Holy _fuck,”_ he curses, arms flying up to cover his bare chest. Yachi stands at the doorway, dressed similarly to how Bokuto looks, except with a safari-coloured skirt.

“A-Akaashi-kun?” Yachi asks, peeking through the slits of her fingers.

“Y’all know each other already?” Kuroo asks, amused. There’s a very heavy curiosity dripping off of his words, and he eggs for more. “Where’d you guys meet? How’d you guys meet? Akaashi, you know she’s just a first-year, right? How could you do this to my precious little bean?”

Akaashi struggles to keep his torso hidden, so he turns and bolts down the hallway to his room. “Sorry, I’ll be right back!”

Bokuto waits sitting at the corner of his bed, looking over his choices. “Hey, what do you think about th—oh.”

Akaashi appears in the room, visibly flushed. He slams his door shut and leans against it, eyes clenched tightly in embarrassment. His towel hangs low on his hips, but he catches it before he slips further.

Akaashi regains a bit of his composure before opening his eyes. Bokuto is looking at him, but not at his face. With the flush creeping back onto his face, he opens the door slightly, making sure to hide behind it to avoid any more catastrophes. “Get out, I’ll change.”

Bokuto’s Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow before getting to his feet. “Y-Yeah, sorry.” Akaashi closes the door, making sure to lock it, and sighs in relief. What the hell was that? Why is Yachi here? And why did Bokuto look at him like that? His heart races in his chest thinking about the expression the boy had on his face but shoves it aside by forcing the wetness out of his hair with the towel around his hips. He struggles to pick one of the shirts Bokuto laid out on his bed for him, eventually settling for the plainest looking one: a dark blue, short-sleeved button-up. He does it up all the way after pulling on a pair of his own shorts. They’re simple, with no excessive designs or many pockets. A sleek look. Nothing attraction-seeking. He’ll be fine. He’ll drop by, greet some old friends, and then slip out without anyone noticing.

He refuses to wear sandals, however, and slips his feet out of his slippers and into a pair of Vans. He’s still puzzled as to why Yachi is here and he’s about to leave his room to question her when he hears chatter from outside his room.

“You went on a _date_ with him?” It sounds like Kuroo.

“Yeah, but we just decided to be friends. I’m not really looking, and neither is he, so…” Yachi explains. She probably doesn’t like all the attention she’s getting about their ‘date’.

Akaashi decides to open his door at that moment. The voices stop, but everyone bursts out into tear-filled laughter upon seeing him.

“What the _hell_ are you wearing?” Kuroo asks behind a fit of giggles, pointing at his shirt. Akaashi’s cheeks flare red, and he’s about to turn on his heels to go change—no, he’s not even going to go anymore—until a strong grip pulls him back.

“Idiot,” Bokuto says, stifling a small laugh, “you don’t button it up all the way. You look like a dad.” He helps unbutton them for him, and Akaashi is worried he isn’t going to stop until it’s all the way open like his and Kuroo’s shirts are, but then he hovers above the fifth button. “This is good. You look good.”

Akaashi brushes the other boy’s hands to the side to button up the fourth button again, finding that it’s exposing a little too much. “I hate you guys so much.”

“Akaashi-kun, you look good!” Yachi says, finally coming down from her laugh.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “Wait, I—why are you here?”

“Kuroo-kun invited me! We are pregaming here, right?”

“Yeppers,” Kuroo responds with a pop. “Let the drinking begin!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i logged back into my old twitter (which i never used) so please !! come talk to me because i have no friends and need friends who Share the Same Love as I do for bokuaka
> 
> *doesn't know how to attach a hyperlink so*  
> https://twitter.com/milkocaine
> 
> PLEASE COME BE MY FRIEND and teach me how to use twt pls i literally have no idea


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they play drinking games !! 👁️👄👁️  
> FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO ARENT FAMILIAR WITH RAGE CAGE aka stack cup, honeycomb, etc. there r youtube vids but i can try my best to explain it!! learned how to play it my first year in uni and its really fun hehehe (i threw up one time oops)
> 
> basically its a really fast-paced game meant to get a big group of people drunk quickly  
> imagine a big table with a bunch of red solo cups in the middle. each cup has a little bit of liquor in it (it can be anything, from beers to mixes to literally straight spirits). some ppl play with a kings cup in the middle but u dont have to
> 
> EVERYONE STANDS IN A CIRCLE AROUND THE TABLE  
> there are TWO empty cups, and two players opposite each other will start with it.  
> they will also each have a pong ball. the goal is to bounce the ball onto the table and get it into the cup. the other person is allowed to sabotage (by knocking it away, blowing it out of the cup, etc. at least thats how i played HAHA)  
> once you get the ball in, you move the cup to the person on your LEFT, who then proceeds to do the same.  
> HOWEVER if the cup that started on the opposite end CATCHES UP TO YOU because you keep failing to bounce the ball in, and then the person on your RIGHT gets it in before you do, they can stack that cup onto yours. you have to pass the stacked cups to the person on your LEFT, grab a cup from the middle, drink it, and then proceed to play with the same cup, now emptied.  
> IF you bounce the ball in on your first try, you can pass it to ANYONE IN THE GROUP. ideally you want to pass it to the person right before the one with the other cup because the point of the game is to stack the cups. eventually it'll get taller and taller and more difficult to bounce the ball in, making it all the more fun !!!  
> game ends when all the cups in the middle are gone heheh
> 
> ANYWAYS im bad influence (but fr, BE SAFE WHILE DRINKING ! have fun now that u know how to play kek)

Akaashi tries not to drink too much because he knows he can’t hold his liquor as well as everyone else. Even Yachi seems to be better at it than he is, but she probably drinks more than he does on a regular basis, considering she’s a first-year.

They gather around their table, Kuroo introducing a game that Akaashi isn’t familiar with.

“You’ve never played Rage Cage?” Bokuto asks, confused. “I thought I played with you once.”

“I don’t… think so.” It looks a little familiar with all the cups pushed into the middle, but he doesn’t really remember playing it.

The game starts after everyone gets a hang of the rules, but Akaashi keeps losing for some reason. He just can’t seem to bounce the pong ball into the cup, and it just keeps getting taller and taller with every cup that’s being stacked on it. Bokuto gets it in and stacks his cup on top of Akaashi’s cup.

“Ever considered not sucking?” he asks, cheeks red with the familiar Asian glow. Akaashi grabs his fourth cup from the middle and drinks it, scowling at the taste of straight rum. He’s always hated drinking hard liquor without some sort of a mix. He prefers coolers, sometimes beer. This is definitely not it.

Sometime throughout the game, Akaashi remembers. He played this once back in first-year with Bokuto, but he had drank so much he blacked out for the first time. Bokuto had to help him to the toilet because he needed to throw up, and he was in there yakking his stomach out for a whole hour. No wonder he doesn’t remember anything; he literally didn’t even remember anything from the night before.

Starting to feel it kick into his system, Akaashi says he’s skipping out on the next game. Everyone seems a little drunk, but could probably drink more. The music plays loudly through Kuroo’s speaker, and it’s times like these that Akaashi actually finds that he’s enjoying the loud music. He watches as Yachi knocks the ball out of Bokuto’s reach with a devilish grin, giggling hysterically when she stacks her cup on top of Bokuto’s.

Bokuto easily downs the drink in the cup. Akaashi uses this time to scrutinize the white-haired boy from head to toe. Heat rushes to his cheeks when his eyes land on the muscles above the waistband of his boxers, peeking out from the hem of his shorts. His eyes trail higher, gaze following the deep grooves of his pecs. His tongue slides over his lips instinctively, mouth a little dry. Bokuto’s biceps are big and firm and could probably easily choke someone to death if he wanted to. Akaashi shudders, wiping the thoughts away. He can’t be thinking like this—he blames it entirely on the alcohol. Bokuto is an attractive man, even Akaashi can’t deny that, but thinking about him like this really just makes him fidget in his seat.

Akaashi dips his head back, resting against the chair to refresh his mind and cool the blood in his cheeks.

“Hey,” a voice sounds from above him. He feels the dip from a weight being pressed down on the sides of his head. “You okay?”

“Mhmm,” Akaashi hums, eyes still closed. He opens his eyes to look into Bokuto’s golden eyes. He can’t seem to look away. “Are you guys done?”

“You look a little tired. I know I’m making you go, but if you’re not feeling well or seriously don’t want to, you don’t actually have to,” Bokuto says. The party goes on behind him, but Akaashi can only focus on the way Bokuto’s lips curl downward into a concerned frown, eyebrows stitch together, and eyes wash over prettily.

“No,” Akaashi speaks loudly, suddenly determined. He stands up, nearly knocking into the other boy if he hadn’t pushed himself off fast enough, “I want to go. Let’s go.”

“Oya, oya, what did Bokuto say to you to make you suddenly want to go so badly?” Kuroo asks, amused. They’re playing beer pong and, surprisingly, Kuroo is losing to Yachi.

“Yachi-san, no one has beaten Kuroo before.” He can almost see the arrow that strikes Kuroo’s heart, and he finds satisfaction in the stunned look on his face.

“That’s so  _ mean,” _ he cries. “Tsukki, did you hear what he said?”

“Get better,” the blonde responds, sipping on his drink through a metal straw.

The party is in full swing by the time they get there. The line is also incredibly long—Akaashi doesn’t even know if they’ll make it in. He also passes by a sign that tells them they’ll need identification (a given) and five dollars. At first, Akaashi doesn’t believe a frat will charge people for simply going to a party, but then he remembers that liquor is on the house. He doesn’t even think he has cash on him.

“Bokuto,” he says, “the line is too long and I don’t have—”

“No, it’s okay. Kageyama is at the gate,” Bokuto responds, dragging everyone past the line and walking straight for the table. Upon seeing them, Kageyama lights up immediately. He must be tired from checking all the IDs and stamping everyone’s hands.

“Bokuto-san!” he calls, smiling widely. “Akaashi-san! I’m glad you could make it.” He sounds genuine. Akaashi notices how much more built Kageyama has gotten—did he get taller, too? How long has it been since he’s seen everyone? He’s starting to feel regretful for not dropping by the centre to check up on them every once in a while.

Kageyama lifts the tape so everyone can duck under. “Everyone else is already in there. I’ll be off my shift in about thirty minutes, so I’ll find you guys later.” They skip the line and get their stamps before heading inside with Bokuto and Kuroo in the lead.

Most places have been turned into a dance floor, and a DJ has his set up right by the doors. There’s a coat check by the back, and Akaashi wishes he had known they could bring jackets so he didn’t partially freeze his ass off on the walk here. His system is beginning to reboot after chugging an entire glass of water before coming here, so he quietly slips away to find where the punch is. Someone fills up a cup for him before making his way back to the group, only to find that everyone has dispersed except for Yachi. She stands there, watching the people on the dance floor. She gasps excitedly when she looks up to see Akaashi.

“Will you come dance with me?” the excitement in her voice makes it hard for Akaashi to say no, even though he’s not particularly fond of dancing. He doesn’t really know how to, either. He’s never been to a club or participated in anything like this before. “I’ll show you how, it’s really fun!”

Akaashi decides that if he  _ really  _ wants to have fun, he’ll have to finish the rest of this. So, he does. The empty cup is forgotten somewhere on a table and he’s now being dragged to the wrist right into the pit. People close in on them, and suddenly Akaashi can’t see anything but moving bodies, flashing lights, and Yachi’s grinning face in the dark.

“Just move your hips,” she starts, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “You kind of get into it easily if you just close your eyes and listen to the music!” She has to shout for Akaashi to hear her, but he listens anyway. The alcohol flooding his system is definitely helping. Nobody’s really watching and, for the first time ever, Akaashi finds himself relaxing into his surroundings, music pumping boldness into his systems.

“Yes, like that!” Yachi yells excitedly, hands coming up over her head to sway into the music. The beat is repetitive, but Akaashi discovers he doesn’t really mind. It’s different here than on Bokuto’s car. The DJ switches it up after a little bit and something darker plays; it’s a little slower, a bit sexier. He finds that he’s not really interested and opts to step out for a breather and possibly another drink. Yachi remains where she is, happy to have found the energy and confidence to dance by herself. He’ll be back—she’ll be okay.

He’s partway through the crowd when he spots Bokuto (his hair, gelled into two spikes, as usual, is really hard to miss) leaning over another girl pressed against the wall. They’re not doing anything, just talking, but his body talk tells a story Akaashi doesn’t really want to hear right now—but he can’t look away. Bokuto glances up and they lock eyes for a short moment before Akaashi is headed straight for the bar, requesting another cup of spiked punch. He doesn’t know what they put in it, but it’s sweet and addicting and he feels bad for raising the cup to his lips and knocking the coldness back. He’s upset and he doesn’t know why.

Someone grabs hold of his arm, pulling the cup away from his mouth.

“Hey!” Akaashi says, visibly upset. It’s Bokuto. “I was drinking that.”

“Slow down there, kitten. If you’re thirsty, drink some water.”

Akaashi almost chokes. What did Bokuto just call him? He’s flushing so hard he thanks the Gods the rooms are dark. He must not have heard him right. He’s intoxicated—his mind is playing tricks on him. Bokuto would never call him something as embarrassing as that. Or maybe he did, and somewhere at the back of his mind, Akaashi wants to hear it again.

“I’m fine,” is all he’s able to say, though. He tears his arm away from Bokuto’s hand, choosing to drink the punch slowly now. “It’s good. I like it.”

Bokuto chuckles. “I can tell. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Kinda.” Akaashi chooses to ignore what he had seen earlier, but it doesn’t mean he’s forgotten. There’s just something about it that doesn’t sit right with him, and he wants to not witness it again.

“There you guys are!” A big group of boys call. Hinata runs straight for Akaashi, who lifts his arm to the side so as to not spill anything on anyone when they embrace in a hug.

“Akaashi-san! I’ve missed you so much!” Hinata’s words are slurring and he’s stumbling, but Kageyama has a good hold on him. “I was so sad you weren’t going to come, but then Bokuto told me you were!”

“You know you can visit us anytime, right?” Akaashi says, a smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, but your residence is kind of far from ours and Kageyama never wants to go ‘cause he’s always so busy with his stupid frat boy stuff.”

“Idiot! It’s not stupid,  _ you’re  _ stupid!” Kageyama argues.

“Don’t call me an idiot,  _ idiot!” _

Akaashi will never get tired of this.

Kuroo feigns a yawn. “So are you lovebirds dating yet, or are you still stupid and blind?”

At the comment, they both shut up, opting to glare at each other instead.

“Yes,” they grumble in unison. The blush is apparent on their cheeks, but they all know it isn’t just from the alcohol.

“Hinata!”

“Yachi!”

The two jump up and meet in the middle for a hug.

“Wow, apparently everyone seems to know Yachi.”

“We were friends from high school!” Hinata beams.

“Ew, is that Akaashi?” someone makes a snide remark.

“Oikawa, I don’t want to see your face. It’s ugly.”

“Wahh, Iwa-chan, Akaashi-chan is so mean to me!”

He misses this. He really does. He feels more motivated to drop by now. He’s sure Bokuto won’t mind, either. He’ll probably try to make him go to the gym while they’re there, anyway. Akaashi excuses himself to the washroom, suddenly finding the urge to pee. It has to be from all the liquor he just forced into his body.  _ God,  _ he is going to be so dehydrated in the morning. He stumbles but finds his footing when he shuts and locks the door behind him.

His mind can’t seem to rid the image of Bokuto with another girl pressed onto him. It happens often—Bokuto used to bring people back to his room all the time in first-year, and he still does, just not as often with the amount of workload second-year piles on you. Akaashi has never really been as bothered until recently, and he doesn’t know why. What has changed? What cut the ribbon and popped the bubble? Suddenly, all he can think about is Bokuto. Is it because he’s drunk? Or is it because of that bar incident? Or that night when he crept in on Bokuto while he had been sleeping?

He splashes some cold water on his face, wetting a few parts of his shirt. It helps with the heat in his cheeks but does little against the actual drunkenness. His vision is slow and his eyes are hazy. Akaashi looks like a mess.

The door opens and Akaashi stands face-to-face with Atsumu. The other, upon seeing Akaashi, gives him a smile. But when the raven-haired boy brushes by, he’s surprised the blonde doesn’t stop him.

He returns to find that the group has dispersed. The dance floor looks much crowded now, but Akaashi can’t tell if it actually is or if the alcohol, which is creeping into his system at a very alarming pace, is making him see things. He decides to head for the basement, where another wave of people are dancing to a different kind of beat. There’s another bar here, and Akaashi knows it goes against everything he’s ever vouched for, but he doesn’t feel bad when he asks for an orange juice spiked with vodka. He grimaces at the bitterness, but it’s not entirely bad.

“Hey,” a voice speaks from beside him. It’s Atsumu, again.

“Do you need something?” Akaashi asks, trying his hardest to focus on the boy in front of him. It proves to be a little difficult, though, and he probably looks stupid blinking so many times.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry again. I know it was rude and inappropriate. I was pretty gone that night and…” Atsumu’s voice trails off when Akaashi catches sight of Bokuto with his tongue shoved down someone’s throat. He feels the anger wash off of himself in waves, something dark and unsettling swimming in his blood like red, hot fury. He doesn’t like it—doesn’t like that he’s right here, willing to offer so much up for the white-haired boy, except that Bokuto doesn’t notice him. Will  _ never  _ notice him.

He raises the cup to his lips and knocks the juice so quickly even Atsumu looks slightly concerned.

“Akaashi, are you all ri—”

“Kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no... what is akaashi trying to achieve?? :o


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this is literally 2k words of smut IF U DONT LIKE IT,,, u don't have to read it :'(  
> ALSO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONg i was supposed to post it this morning but... i kinda just woke up HAHAHAHA

His own words come as a surprise to even himself, but he doesn’t take them back. When Atsumu gives no answer, Akaashi rips his gaze off Bokuto to stare the boy in front of him down. He doesn’t ask again because he’s pulling Atsumu in by the front of his shirt and crashing his lips against the other’s. The pace is frantic,  _ desperate,  _ and Akaashi wants so badly for it to be Bokuto. Atsumu eventually falls into the rhythm of it, teeth sinking down into Akaashi’s lower lip.

The black-haired boy dares to crack an eye open, mouth moving against the other male’s, to look in Bokuto’s direction. He’s stopped kissing her and is, instead, looking straight at Akaashi now. The empty cup that was in his hand falls to the ground somewhere and Akaashi raises both his arms to curl around Atsumu’s neck, allowing for an even deeper kiss. The people around them don’t care; they don’t look. They seem slow, as if time has stopped and all Akaashi can focus on is the tongue rubbing against his own and the heated anger in Bokuto’s eyes.

Akaashi closes his eyes, breathing hotly into the kiss. He pulls away shortly after to catch his breath, and Atsumu uses this chance to push him up against a wall. Akaashi finds that the other boy is actually  _ really good  _ at kissing and yearns for more of that aggression. His eyes are lidded when he reaches up to cup Atsumu’s cheeks, about to pull him in for another round when the blonde is suddenly pulled off of him.

Bokuto stands there, grip tight on Atsumu’s shirt, but he’s only looking at Akaashi.

“Keiji,” he says, voice deep and satisfying and  _ everything Akaashi’s ever wanted,  _ “what are you doing?” It comes out more as a statement than a question, but he does his best to not be bothered. He had wanted this all along.

“Same thing you were doing.”

And that cuts it. Somewhere along the line, Akaashi had wondered what it was about Bokuto that he loved so much. He had wondered when it started,  _ how  _ it started, and whether it was okay to feel like this for someone he thought was so unreachable, yet at the same time was  _ right there. _ Akaashi has, now, thrown himself into the deep end of the waters, and he knows he won’t recover from it.

Bokuto’s hand is closed tightly around his wrist as he drags him all the way home. The front door shuts with a loud slam and, suddenly, Akaashi finds himself shoved against a wall with a knee between his thighs. Bokuto moves so fast he can’t keep up with his eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asks again, forehead pressed into Akaashi’s.

“Why? You didn’t like that I was kissing another boy?” he dares, defiance definite in the depths of his eyes.

A low growl rips from Bokuto’s throat before he’s pulling Akaashi up into his arms, hands coming down to grip tightly at his ass. Their lips meet immediately, like they have always been wanting to. It’s full of yearning and desperation, of heated tongues pushing against each other and teeth sinking into flesh. He’s carried throughout the apartment, making it to Bokuto’s room in record time. Akaashi has never doubted the boy’s strength, especially not when he wants to use it, and this time, he  _ really  _ wants to.

Akaashi is roughly tossed onto the bed, and Bokuto follows suit, pressing his body against the other boy’s with a grind. Thick fingers reach up into black hair, giving it a harsh tug back, and Akaashi is  _ loving  _ it. He’s loving the way Bokuto pulls at his strands, bites at his shoulder, and grinds into his crotch. It’s so hot Akaashi wants  _ more. _

“Koutarou,  _ please,” _ he begs, his own hands finding their way down to sink into the boy’s hair. Bokuto resists, though, grabbing his wrists and locking them down into the mattress.

“Don’t move,” he warns, a dangerous edge to his voice. Akaashi bucks his hips in retaliation, wanting their clothes off  _ now. _ Bokuto stops moving back up to face Akaashi. A few strands of his hair have fallen out of place, now dangling over Bokuto’s dark eyes. “What did I say?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Akaashi manages out. He hadn’t realized how strong the grip around his wrists are, and especially how serious Bokuto is right now. His cock twitches in his shorts, never wanting to look away.

Bokuto works their clothes off quickly, and Akaashi sighs in relief when the restriction of his lower half gives way to release, allowing him to breathe. He glances down, watching how Bokuto’s biceps flex and unflex while getting out of his own clothes.

“You’re so hot,” he breathes. He doesn’t care that he was told not to move—he wants to have those muscles under his touch right now. He wants his fingernails dragging against the toughness of the flesh, teeth biting into skin. He closes a hand around Bokuto’s length, standing tall and strong just for him. He peers up at the boy through his lashes, tongue sticking out to circle around the head. The softness of the mattress supports his weight, and Akaashi is glad he won’t have to wake up tomorrow with sore elbows and knees.

Bokuto leans into the bed, thighs pressed against the side of the mattress, and shoves Akaashi’s face down. The tip hits the back of his throat and he makes a noise of discomfort, but Bokuto’s fingers close around his locks to hold him there, doesn’t let him breathe. Akaashi relaxes his throat and the grip loosens, allowing him to pull back only to be shoved back down again. They repeat this process, Akaashi bobbing his head under Bokuto’s easy demand. The sounds from above are all worth it, though. He loves the feeling of Bokuto having total control over him, like he’s  _ his _ and nobody else’s. He wants Bokuto like his life  _ depends  _ on it.

Bokuto pulls him off his cock, breath hitched, and Akaashi wonders how he looks for Bokuto to make such a provocative expression. The string of saliva breaks and it drips down the edge of Akaashi’s lips and he struggles to breathe properly with his head tugged all the way back so that the other man can stare down at his face. His eyes are teary from how raw the back of his throat feels—Akaashi smiles devilishly, but Bokuto breaks it.

“How does it feel, Keiji?” the man above him asks. He lets go of Akaashi’s hair and instead pushes him back into the bed roughly. “How does it feel to have my cock in your mouth instead of another boy’s tongue?”

Akaashi shudders, watching Bokuto climb over him slowly. “K-Koutarou,” he manages, but it comes out breathless, like a whine.

“Answer me,” Bokuto growls, fingers pressed into his hips as he looms over him. Akaashi is sure there will be bruises there tomorrow, but he doesn’t mind. He wants to be marked; to have evidence to prove that Bokuto  _ wanted  _ him.

“I love it,” he responds, hands reaching up to curl around the back of Bokuto’s neck. He pulls him closer for a kiss. “I want more,  _ please,  _ Koutarou.”

The kiss is slower, though it isn’t gentle. Bokuto is all tongue and teeth, and Akaashi lets him suck into his mouth like he has always belonged there. Bokuto pulls away too quickly—he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of kissing him—and reaches into his nightstand to pull out a bottle of lube and a condom. He drizzles enough to coat all three of his fingers. Akaashi almost shakes in anticipation. He’s flipped onto his fours with one strong hand in a swift motion, but before he can get stable, Bokuto has already pressed a finger in. He collapses onto his arms, a groan slipping out of his mouth and into the pillow.

“Get up,” Bokuto orders, and Akaashi is up on his palms again, pushing back into the addition of a second finger. It’s a tight stretch, it’s uncomfortable, but Akaashi wants it. Bokuto’s fingers are so thick it’s hard to not come just from two. The third finger slips in with a little bit of difficulty when he clenches. Bokuto puts it in without warning and Akaashi has to remind himself to relax. After a minute, the sensation is gone and Akaashi almost cries, pushing back into nothingness.

But the strong hold on his hips and the feeling of something harder, something  _ bigger,  _ rubbing against his hole has his toes curling. Bokuto pushes in, burying himself to the hilt, and Akaashi has to shove his face down into the pillow to prevent the noises from being too loud. It’s been so long since he’s done this it  _ hurts,  _ but the numbing of the alcohol definitely helps. He finds himself pushing back before he should be ready, clenching tightly to urge the boy behind him to keep moving.

“Fuck,” Bokuto curses, the tightness around him most likely unbearable. He begins moving, every thrust so strong Akaashi has to actually hold himself in place. The pace picks up to a brutal one with Bokuto’s hips slapping Akaashi’s ass cheeks raw and pink. The fingers at his waist dig in painfully, but the feeling of being fucked so roughly into tomorrow numbs it all away.

“Koutarou,” he begs, breathless,  _ “harder, harder.” _ A hand presses him down into the pillows. His arms give out and he lets himself stay there, ass in the air and head forced down. His moans are muffled, but they’re loud enough to travel down to every inch of the apartment. He hopes Kuroo and Tsukishima aren’t home yet.

As if Bokuto can tell he’s unfocused, he lifts his hand and slips his cock out. Akaashi is flipped onto his back, his face staring up at the other boy’s. And then he plunges himself back into Akaashi’s heat, hips snapping rapidly and aggressively.

“Look at me,” Bokuto says. Sweat drips off his chin and lands on Akaashi’s hip. He never looks away from those beautiful, blown-out pupils, gold colouring just around them. Akaashi is so impressed with Bokuto’s stamina, with the way his abdominal muscles tense so tightly they look like they might cramp. His hands travel up to rake fingernails across the hard skin, squeezing everything on Bokuto’s body as if they might run away right now. Oh, the way it turns him on. One of his hands reach towards his dick, but Bokuto swats it away before he even touches himself.

“No, not yet,” the boy above him grunts. He curls forward, large, bruising hands pushing against the undersides of Akaashi’s thighs until his knees are by his shoulders. Akaashi complies, hands curling behind his knees although Bokuto doesn’t need the help. He’s bending him to  _ break. _

_ “Please, Koutarou,” _ he whimpers, tears threatening to spill over. “I need to come, I need it right now,  _ please.” _

Bokuto watches him intensely, face contorted with all sorts of emotions, and wraps a hand around Akaashi’s leaking cock. He jerks it with fast pumps, thumb brushing against the head.

“Say that again,” he says, slamming his cock into Akaashi with so much force the headboard bangs against the wall.

_ “Please please please, Koutarou,  _ I need to  _ come. Please  _ let me come,” he whimpers between moans. His lashes are wet now, literally crying for an orgasm. The jerking of Bokuto’s hand picks up the pace to match his thrusts and Bokuto leans down to capture Akaashi’s lips in a kiss, although it’s a mess of uneven breaths and moans.

“Come for me, Keiji.” The deep, baritone voice echoes through Akaashi’s head and he’s suddenly seeing an explosion behind his eyelids, hot, white liquid spilling over Bokuto’s hand and shooting up to his chest and stomach. Bokuto’s hips stutter and he’s coming too, the pace slowed to match the come-down of his euphoria. He pulls out and tosses the tied condom into a trash can, then the silence settles upon them.

Akaashi is known to not make bad decisions, but he might’ve just made the biggest one of his life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY IMPORTANT NOTE AT END !!
> 
> anyways,, another quick update because i don't know how to sleep, but also im working on (yet another) fic as this one and my other one will be wrapping up soon! i need friends pls... i need opinions on my fics because i get horrible writers block sdjflsdjfj

Something stirs in the pit of his stomach and Akaashi is up in an instant, not caring about the fact that he’s wearing nothing besides Bokuto’s large t-shirt and making noise loud enough to wake up the neighbours. The washroom door slams open with so much force it bounces back into its original spot, and then Akaashi is heaving into the toilet. A pair of feet jog down the hallway but he barely registers it from the ringing in his ears and the acidic burning in his throat.

“Akaashi,” a voice says, but Akaashi shakes his head as if telling not to come closer. Bokuto never listens, though, and crouches behind him to rub a warm hand up and down his back soothingly.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, disappearing and leaving Akaashi to await the next round of nausea. It comes a minute later and he’s throwing up all the alcohol he’s had sitting around in his stomach. Bokuto reemerges five minutes later with a glass of water and a hot water bottle. He sits the glass on the counter and passes the hot water bottle to Akaashi, who thanks him for it. He hugs it to his stomach and finally notices how much the room is spinning.

“How are you feeling?” Bokuto asks, taking a seat next to the boy.

He shakes his head and slurs, “Not yet,” and throws up again.

Bokuto sits there for its entirety to make sure he’s okay, and he finds that he doesn't really mind.

Akaashi wakes up sometime in the afternoon. His mind is muddled and the light through the blinds is still too bright. He silently wonders if he’s still drunk. He turns to look at the sleeping boy next to him. His eyelashes rest upon his faintly-red cheeks, lips slightly parted. He closes his eyes again because he’s still too tired to think about anything when they suddenly shoot open. Suddenly, he’s more awake than ever. The memories from last night come flooding in, heightening all of his senses at once. The irresponsible drinking on his part, Bokuto with an unfamiliar girl, the kiss with Atsumu, being dragged home, and… oh _God._

What has he _done?_

He needs to get out of here right now. He has just made the stupidest mistake of his life—how is he supposed to face Bokuto, his best friend of years upon _years_ , after just _sleeping_ with him? The anxiety gnaws at him at the back of his mind. What is he supposed to do? What is going to happen to them? What if Bokuto doesn’t even want to talk to him anymore? They were _drunk_ —it was just a _mistake_ —there’s no way he can come back after that. Does Bokuto hate him? Even worse: has Akaashi been reduced to just another fling, like all the other people Bokuto has brought back for a night? His heart is heavy in his chest, beating loudly against his ribcage. He doesn’t want to be just another lay. He doesn’t know what he wants to be but he doesn’t want to be _that,_ not when the other boy means the world to him. Akaashi just—doesn’t want anything to change. He doesn’t want to lose the most important person in his life.

He closes his eyes, working on steadying his breath and calming his heart. He shouldn’t even be here; Bokuto probably feels uncomfortable. He slowly flips the covers up, trying his best not to stir the boy sleeping next to him. His feet hit the cold floor and he stands up, but before he can take another step, a hand closes around his wrist to pull him back down, and even closer than ever.

“Stay,” Bokuto says, voice heavy with sleep. The room is still dark and Akaashi can’t really see anything, but he can feel the warm chest pressed into his back, the weight of Bokuto’s arm curled around his waist, and the even breaths tickling the back of his head.

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi speaks quietly. His fingers curl around Bokuto’s thumb to trace along his nail and thick skin.

“Don’t do that,” Bokuto mumbles and pulls him closer, arm tightening over Akaashi’s torso. “Nothing’s changed, so don’t leave.” The racing of his heart slows with every passing minute, and Akaashi finds himself growing sleepier and sleepier in Bokuto’s warm embrace.

  
  
  


“Are you awake, sleepyhead?”

Akaashi hums, turning onto his other side and pulling the blanket over his head. “No,” he grumbles out. He breathes in, knees curling up to his chest to get some more of the warmth.

“Have some water,” Bokuto says, peeling the blanket off just enough to reveal Akaashi’s face. Akaashi sits up with a groan, complaining about how bright it is, and accepts the glass of water and painkillers. There’s a dull soreness at the base of his back, an embarrassing reminder of last night’s escapade, but he tries his best not to make it obvious. He almost shudders at the thought of how humiliatingly he had acted in front of the white-haired boy. Hopefully, they were both so drunk they can’t remember the details.

Bokuto takes the empty glass from Akaashi’s hands (he had been _really_ thirsty) and sets it on his table before taking a seat on his bed, scanning over Akaashi’s features. The black-haired boy refuses to meet his eyes, though, but Bokuto takes a hand into his own.

“Listen…” he starts, “about last night—”

“No,” Akaashi cuts him off, “it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it.” He pulls his hand out of Bokuto’s hold, slinking back into a lying position.

Bokuto frowns but complies nevertheless. “Okay.”

The rest of the week goes by rather smoothly. Akaashi’s emotional concerns are shoved to the back of his mind as he throws himself into his studies for his upcoming exam. He spends long hours on campus, attends every single lecture, lab, and seminar, and spends the rest of his evenings in the Agriculture and Forestry building. The atrium has been his favourite place to study recently. He finds the green walls and plants around him relaxing. It’s also decently quiet, as students don’t really utilize all the spots on campus, especially this one.

He doesn’t see Bokuto as often these days. It’s not like he’s purposely avoiding the boy, but using his studies and midterms as excuses helps with not having to face his emotions. True to his word, Bokuto acts like things haven’t changed, but Akaashi feels like they have—he _knows_ they have. He’s not like Bokuto, who can set his emotions aside so easily. Akaashi struggles so much to put up a front that even Kuroo has noticed. But what if Bokuto isn’t even acting? What if he doesn’t even… feel anything? He’s definitely not the type to catch feels for someone after sleeping with them once. Is Akaashi alone in this? He doesn’t love Bokuto, he thinks. His chest hurts at the thought. Does he, though? No, there’s no way. He can’t. He’s not ready to get hurt—he’ll need to cut these feelings off. Nothing good can come out of unrequited love. No, it’s not unrequited love. He doesn’t love Bokuto. Akaashi doesn’t even know what love _is._

“Busy studying or staring off into space?” a voice sounds from before him. He looks up to find Kuroo smiling smugly, dropping his bag by the chair across him.

“I’m so tired,” Akaashi says, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He blinks at the laptop, vision slightly blurry. He’s been staring at it for hours every single day, he might have to get glasses soon if he doesn’t want his vision to get worse.

“I can tell,” Kuroo hums. He sets a cup of Starbucks coffee on the table. “I got you some tea, though. Don’t worry, it’s caffeinated.”

Akaashi gladly picks it up and raises it to his lips. The tea is hot but the burn on his lip is familiar. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. I was gonna come study here anyway, but I’m not really surprised to find you here.”

“I see,” Akaashi says, words mumbled with the cup pressed into his lower lip. He sighs, closing his eyes for just a second. He should be done soon. The information is starting to look so repetitive it’s boring. He’s going to get a good sleep in tonight, go through with his midterm, go home, and relax the rest of the day. He thinks he deserves it.

“Are you okay?”

Akaashi blinks his eyes open. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

“I mean with Bokuto.”

His lips fall open, but they close immediately. Should he tell him? No, it’s way too embarrassing. There’s no way he can tell anyone about what had happened. But it’s Kuroo. Maybe he’ll have better advice to give.

“I slept with him,” Akaashi gives in.

“I know that.”

He nearly sputters on his tea. He coughs a few times, getting a few looks from other students. “How did you know that?”

“Well,” the smile on Kuroo’s face tells him he finds the situation quite amusing, which Akaashi absolutely hates, “the marks on your neck weren’t really hard to notice.”

“B-But that could’ve been anyone! Why would you assume Bokuto?” Akaashi argues despite there being no point.

“You literally walked out of _his_ room in _his_ shirt. It’s painfully obvious.”

Akaashi’s thumb traces the edge of his cup, bottom lip worried between his teeth. He doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t even know where to _start._ Why does he even feel like this?

“What should I do?” he asks after a while.

Kuroo peeks up from behind his glasses. “What do you mean?”

“I feel like… it’s not the same anymore.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Is it? Akaashi doesn’t know. He hasn’t had the time to think about it, not that he _wants_ to, but he supposes suppressing his feelings isn’t exactly ideal, too. He should know that—he’s a psychology student. “I haven’t really thought about it. I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

“Bokuto cares about you. Even if you feel like things have changed, I don’t think it’ll be easy to get rid of him,” Kuroo answers. After a short pause, he adds, “Do you like him?”

“Of course not! It was just an accident. We were both drunk.” Akaashi rebuts, a little too loudly, a little too quickly. Kuroo watches him for a bit, eyebrows furrowed, but then lets it go.

“If you say so.”

The two spend the next couple of hours there. By the time Akaashi has finished, satisfied with how he feels, the time tells him it’s time to head home. Kuroo is just about done, too. Their walk back is quiet, allowing Akaashi to think about his feelings. It doesn’t last very long, however, because he grows frustrated and decides to push it away again. Kuroo’s question is still bugging him. He knows he told the other boy he doesn’t like Bokuto, but a part of him knows it’s a lie. He doesn’t _not_ like him, but it’s not like he _actually_ likes him. He can’t come to an answer no matter how hard he tries, so he just doesn’t think about it.

Kuroo asks if he’s going to join them for game night, but Akaashi shakes his head. He wants to dive straight into bed. His eyes are tired and studying has drained all of his energy. He needs a good sleep before his exam.

His eyelids are heavy when his head hits the pillow, and Akaashi falls asleep dreaming about a pair of pretty golden eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRIENDS HELLO !! while coming up (and writing) some new bokuaka drafts, i had the sudden realization that i don't have any haikyuu friends to talk with........
> 
> please, ANYONE, if you have twitter, follow me !!! i will NOT HESITATE TO SHOOT YOU A DM !! I NEED FRIENDS im a lonely child :'((
> 
> i need to discuss my future fics and ideas with people
> 
> my twt: @milkocaine
> 
> i promise im very nice and silly and sometimes stupid but that's okay right !!! right ??


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fuck this chapter is long. IM SORRY HDSJKFSK i actually could not find a good cut off, so i suppose it's a treat for you guys!
> 
> also; smut again, and it shall continue to appear in the following chapters fhsdkfjsdkfk

The exam went by smoothly. Akaashi hardly feels worried knowing he studied his ass off for it. He’s one of the first students to leave even after scanning over his answers three times. His professor and TA tell him to have a good rest of the day as he hands in his test and scantron and he smiles genuinely because he knows he will. Since this is the last class on his schedule, he’s free for the rest of the day now.

His phone buzzes immediately after turning it on. He’s slightly surprised to find a message from his mom, but her words are quite expected. Akaashi frowns, fingers flying over his phone screen as he walks home. The weather is surprisingly nice today considering how chilly it’s been recently with the fall weather settling in.

**Mom**

[15:34] How did you like Yui? Had she been nice?

**Akaashi**

[16:11] It didn’t work out. I’m sorry.

**Mom**

[16:12] Ah, that’s okay! My friend has a daughter, she’s also single. I’m thinking you might like her. Are you free Thursday evening?

**Akaashi**

[16:13] I have a research meeting Thursday evening.

**Mom**

[16:14] Friday, then! She is free Friday as well. I will send you her number.

Akaashi stares at the message with a frown on his face. He’s about to turn his phone off to shove it back into his pocket when he receives another text notification, this time from Bokuto.

**Bokuto**

[16:15] AKAASHI HOW DID UR EXAM GO

[16:15] was it good???? do u think u did good??

**Akaashi**

[16:15] It went well, I think.

**Bokuto**

[16:15] you always say that

[16:16] anyways, wanna go celebrate? im tired of eating my own cooking LOL lets go get dinner somewhere

The smile that dances on Akaashi’s lips is small and fond. He’s in a good mood—why not? His pace picks up a little, eager to get home. When he steps inside, the apartment is quiet. Bokuto’s door is open, though, and Akaashi can’t help but take a little peek inside. He hasn’t spoken to the other boy properly since before that night, but the awkwardness has faded a little. Kuroo’s conversation with him hasn’t left his mind though, neither has the fact that he hasn’t dealt with his emotional issues, but that’s not a problem for right now.

“Hey,” Akaashi says, knocking on Bokuto’s door to get his attention, “where are you thinking of going?”

Bokuto lays in bed, playing a game on his phone. He looks up. “Japanese?”

“Sure.”

Akaashi drops all his stuff on his bed before peeling his clothes off his body. He needs a shower before he goes. He feels jittery, for some reason. Is he excited? It’s a lie to say he isn’t looking forward to it. All the time he’s spent studying has made him realize how much he misses talking to Bokuto.

His hair is still a little damp when he drops himself down in Bokuto’s chair. It’s comfy—Bokuto had spent a lot of money on it because he complained about how shitty the chairs had been back in first-year.

The words leave his mouth before he even has time to think about it. “I have another date Friday night.” Akaashi might have been imagining things, but Bokuto seems to freeze for a split second, eyes flicking up to meet his own, before going back to his game.

“I’m free Friday. Do you think you’ll need me?”

Akaashi blinks, a little surprised at the lack of reaction. Is this supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing? He doesn’t know. “Maybe. I can let you know if I need an exit.”

“Great! I’ll make it as dramatic as possible.”

“Please do not.”

Bokuto breaks into laughter. The sound of it is music to Akaashi’s ears.

“What’s her name?”

“Megumi, I think.”

“Megumi-san,” Bokuto starts, tossing his phone and suddenly sitting up (Akaashi groans internally), “you cannot be with this man. He is a troublemaker; a _menace_ —shattering my baby sister’s heart after _deflowering her?_ How could someone possibly love a man like this?” Bokuto closes his eyes with a twisted expression, the back of his hand raised to his forehead melodramatically. “How’s that?”

“No,” Akaashi deadpans, “I’ll murder you.”

Bokuto gasps, “A heartbreaker _and_ a criminal!”

Akaashi kicks Bokuto with his foot, not surprised that the other doesn’t even budge. They catch up on the week spent apart from each other, the topic of their conversation drifting from one thing to another so easily Akaashi momentarily forgets about everything that has happened. Bokuto gets up with a big stretch after an hour of talking. His shirt rises just enough for Akaashi to see the sliver of golden skin above his shorts, the trail of little hairs leading lower and lower—

He shakes his head, blinking away to focus on something else.

“I’m gonna change,” Bokuto states.

Akaashi struggles to get out of his seat. “I can go—”

“No, I need help picking what to wear.”

Except he doesn’t. Bokuto knows exactly what to wear for anything. Akaashi doesn’t even say a single word. He flips through his clothes barechested, as if he _wants_ to show off. Akaashi toes curl, ripping his gaze away. He shouldn’t be thinking like this. He shouldn’t be looking.

“What do you think about this?”

“L-Looks good,” Akaashi mumbles, taking in the way Bokuto’s biceps are apparent even under a grey crewneck. He looks so _good,_ Akaashi feels tiny in his presence.

They leave just as Kuroo and Tsukishima come back, a bag of takeout in the spiky-haired boy’s hands. “Where are _you_ guys going?” Kuroo asks, taking them in with eyes trailing up and down.

“On a date, obviously,” Tsukishima comments from behind him.

Akaashi rolls his eyes despite the familiar flush creeping up his neck. “Not a date.”

“Yes a date,” Kuroo muses. “Look at you guys.”

Akaashi brushes past them after slipping on his shoes, choosing to wait for Bokuto outside the door. He lets the rhythm of his heart slow down as Kuroo teases Bokuto from inside. Is this a date? It looks like one. They’re just celebrating his midterm being done and over with. It’s not a date, right?

Bokuto reappears next to him, a big smile on his face. “I know a really good place. It’s not far, either.”

The restaurant is pretty. It’s dimly lit and almost everything is black with traces of red here and there. A server directs them to a small booth in the back, roomy enough for four, but Bokuto slides in closer to the black-haired boy. Akaashi finds that he doesn’t mind.

“It’s nice, right?” Bokuto asks, flipping through the menu.

Akaashi agrees with a hum, eyes glancing over the options. It’s a little on the pricier side, but he figures he doesn’t go out enough to have to worry about it. His money isn’t really going anywhere, which is surprising considering he’s a university student.

The server comes back with two glasses of water. “Can I start you off with some drinks?”

Akaashi is about to decline but Bokuto speaks up before he does. He’s ordering sake… he’s ordering _sake?_

“Bokuto, I wasn’t planning on—”

“Relaaax, ‘kaashi, just enjoy it. It’s my treat anyway!”

The sake arrives as they place their order. They both order okonomiyaki because Bokuto says it’s the most delicious thing on the menu and Akaashi doesn’t doubt him. He’s always known the best places and the best foods around.

Bokuto pours the sake for them, still hot and steaming. There’s enough for the two of them, and the alcohol percentage is low enough that Akaashi doesn’t have to worry about his head spinning. It’s surprisingly good. He doesn’t really remember when the last time he’s had it was, but he definitely doesn’t recall it being so sweet.

Their food arrives and _god_ is Bokuto right. The sweet and savoury taste of the sauce is all Akaashi could ever ask for, and they find themselves fully immersed in their meal, small conversations in between big bites. The sake is completely gone by the time their server comes to collect their empty dishes, and that’s when Bokuto suggests dessert.

“Are you sure?” Akaashi asks, a little tipsy. He watches Bokuto as he orders a small slice of cheesecake—Akaashi’s favourite sweet. The dusky light above their table illuminates Bokuto just enough for him to really take in all the grooves of his face; the tall nose, strong jawline, and dark eyelashes. He’s so hot Akaashi could melt into his seat.

“Akaashi?”

He blinks, finally noticing the eyes that are on his. They’ve lost their brightness and are instead clouded over with something darker.

“I think I’m gonna go use the washroom.” Akaashi slides out of the booth and locks himself in the washroom, leaning against the door. He feels hot and embarrassed after having been caught staring. Is it bad that he had been staring? Is it bad that he wants to trace along all the ridges of Bokuto’s face? He runs the cold water over his hands before bringing it up to his face. He needs to calm down. He feels like a teenager and with an eighth-grade crush. He feels _silly._

Bokuto is scrolling through his phone when Akaashi reappears. When he catches sight of him, he beams with a wide smile, phone tucked back into his pocket.

“It’s here!” he exclaims. “It’s matcha, your favourite.”

They split the cake evenly despite Bokuto urging him to have more, but Akaashi’s appetite isn’t like the other boy’s and he feels full after four spoonfuls. He leans back to watch Bokuto eat and feels the need to start a conversation in case he gets lost in Bokuto’s features again. He doesn’t blame himself, though. It’s the alcohol talking. Definitely the alcohol.

“Are you going to stop cramming for your next midterms?” he asks.

“Nope,” comes the quick response.

Akaashi sighs. “It doesn’t help, and this is coming from me, a psychology student. Did you know that your performance increases when you get a good sleep? Studies have shown that students perform poorer on exams when they neglect their sleep the day before,” he nags. “A sleep-deprived person also can not focus optimally, so you’re not absorbing new information as well as you should be. Sleeping also helps memory retention. You shouldn’t be staying up all night before an exam trying to shove everything into your brain. It’s not healthy.”

Bokuto has finished eating by the time Akaashi is done talking (not that he actually _is_ done, but) and has turned to put his full focus on the black-haired boy, as if everything he’s saying is extremely interesting.

“What?” Akaashi asks, dumbfounded.

“I love when you go full-nerd on me. It’s cute. Tell me more.”

Akaashi’s hands curl at his sides and he resists the butterflies in his stomach to guide his decisions. Bokuto’s so good at making him nervous lately it’s crazy.

“Shut up,” he snaps. “I’ll help you with your studying. Whenever I study, you have to study. And when I go to bed, you go to bed, too. If you don’t sleep I’ll suffocate you until you pass out.”

“Wow, aggressive,” Bokuto jokes but gives in. The server comes to give them their bill, which Bokuto takes despite Akaashi’s persistence. “It’s fine, just buy me dinner next time,” he says with a wink which Akaashi tries really hard to but is unable to ignore. He waits silently, noticing how the server holds up a comfortable conversation with Bokuto. She’s not exactly flirting, but she’s definitely interested. Akaashi is envious—Bokuto has always been extremely good at talking, even to random strangers. There’s just something about his extrovert personality that draws people in and Akaashi falls victim to it, too—has since day one. He rests his chin on his arm, listening to their conversation. He wants to forgo this stage and just leave now.

They leave after a few more minutes, much to Akaashi’s thanks, and begin their journey home. Bokuto speaks while they walk down the busy block. Night has settled in and, even on a Monday night, there are still lots of young students strolling around. Akaashi talks more about how sleep affects the body as they walk, Bokuto half a step ahead of him like always.

“Dude, that’s so scary,” Bokuto comments, shuddering. Akaashing had been talking about a case study where a man had to tie himself down every night for six years because he had choked his wife in his sleep while dreaming of breaking a deer’s neck.

“It is, but the disorder isn’t very common, so don’t worry about me choking you in my sleep. If I choke you, it’s because I’m doing it on purpose,” Akaashi states, hands shoved in his pockets from the cold.

“Do you want me to die?”

“Sometimes.”

Bokuto’s steps falter, and Akaashi pauses behind him. They stand outside a boba store and Bokuto appears to be staring at the menu taped on the window. “Should we get boba?”

They sit inside Coco sipping on their drinks. Akaashi had paid this time even though Bokuto had insisted, but he had been smart, credit card ready at his side. He notices his cheeks are still red from his reflection in his phone, and he momentarily wonders if it’s from the alcohol or the cold. Perhaps both. Or maybe it’s the way Bokuto smiles at him, invested in everything he’s saying.

“Why don’t you tell me about what you study?” Akaashi suggests, lips pressed against his straw.

“I don’t think you’ll find anything about software engineering interesting,” Bokuto responds with a snort.

“True,” Akaashi agrees, a small smile appearing for just a second.

After a moment, Bokuto leans in so close he startles Akaashi, causing him to lean back a little. “Tell me about molly,” he whispers.

Akaashi’s eyebrows stitch together in concern. “Why? Do you want to try it?”

“Kind of, but I’m too lazy to research it. You’ll be my research.”

Akaashi frowns, fingers sweaty against the plastic of his drink. “I’ll tell you about it on our way back.” They slide out of their seats and exit the busy boba spot, cold breeze tickling Akaashi’s cheeks numb.

“I’m not against what you do,” Akaashi starts, “but research has shown that even a tiny dose of MDMA reduces blood flow to some brain regions. If you use it often enough, it can damage enough neurons in the brain to cause depression, anxiety, a decrease in memory, and more. Do you want that, Bokuto?”

“What if it’s just once?” He sounds as though he’s genuinely interested, so Akaashi continues with a small sigh.

“You’ll probably be depressed for a few days,” Akaashi explains. “When we feel happy, the brain releases serotonin. MDMA releases a lot of serotonin at once and the brain has difficulty producing it afterward when the drug wears off, so people tend to fall into a short period of depression after using it. Long-term MDMA users have trouble producing serotonin, which is how depression can also become a long-term effect. I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life, but please take care of your brain, Bokuto.”

“I see,” Bokuto responds with a hum. “Tell me more! I won’t do it anymore because I love my brain, but it’s really interesting.”

They’re almost home, Akaashi notes, but this helps him study, anyway. He continues, finding that he’s relaxed despite speaking so much. He’s pretty sure that it has been a while since he’s talked like this and enjoyed it.

“God, I am _never_ doing drugs again,” is the first thing that Bokuto says when they enter their apartment. Akaashi tries to stifle a giggle from behind him when he sees Kuroo’s expression.

“The fuck? Y’all high or something?” The apartment is dark and there’s a movie playing on the TV. Kuroo and Tsukishima are sitting suspiciously close to each other but neither Bokuto or Akaashi comment on it.

“No, we were just talking about the effects of molly on the brain. Did you know that it can increase your sex drive?” Bokuto tells them excitedly. Akaashi rolls his eyes and takes his shoes off before stepping inside the apartment, nearly tripping with a curse.

“The correct term is _libido_ and yes—have you forgotten I’m a nursing student?” Kuroo snickers then turns his attention to Akaashi. “Are you drunk? You be tripping on nothing, dude.”

“Shut up,” Akaashi snaps, sending a glare in the boy’s direction, “it’s dark.” He’s definitely not drunk. He had begun to sober up a while ago, but the slight tingle in his fingertips tells him he’s still kind of buzzed. Bokuto, on the other hand, seems completely fine. Akaashi wishes he could hold his liquor as easily as the white-haired boy does.

He makes his way into Bokuto’s room without wondering why and collapses on his bed. His room smells like the cologne he always uses and Akaashi indulges it embarrassingly while Bokuto’s still held up by the other two outside.

“You tryna sleep here tonight?” Bokuto jokes, kicking his door shut and tossing his jacket on his chair. Akaashi hums because _yes,_ he is, but he knows better than that. He should be sleeping in his own bed especially when it’s just a couple of doors down but he wants to be by Bokuto right now. He’s had such a good day and he’s not ready for it to end just yet.

“Your bed is comfier,” he says and he isn’t lying. The light disappears behind Akaashi’s eyelids and he opens them to darkness. Confused, he’s about to ask why Bokuto had turned the lights off when he’s suddenly interrupted with a pair of lips on his own. His heart jumps to his throat and his hands instinctively come up to dig the palms into the other boy’s shoulders. He gives no resistance, though, and Akaashi finds himself melting into the kiss. He doesn’t know what’s happening, doesn’t really have time to think about it, but he likes it; likes the sweetness of Bokuto’s taro milk tea against his tongue, the smell of his cologne—much stronger when it’s in his personal space—and the way thick hands are climbing under his shirt.

Bokuto pulls away from the kiss but their foreheads stay connected.

“Sorry,” the boy above him sounds breathless and Akaashi wants more.

“Don’t talk,” he whispers, pulling him back down with a hand clasped around the softness of Bokuto’s crewneck. They're gentler with each other this time, a stark contrast to how their first time had been. Akaashi isn’t wasted this time and Bokuto isn’t angry—this is nothing like that night.

This is sweetness, like the sake he had earlier. This is action with thought, gentle touches with yearning behind them. Bokuto’s kisses are needy, like they can’t get enough of Akaashi.

The bed creaks under Bokuto’s weight as he climbs on top of him, lips never each other’s. Akaashi spreads his legs, allowing the boy to move in closer, to press his body down and roll his hips forward. The moan that leaves Akaashi’s pink lips is shy, kitten-like.

“Don’t be too loud,” Bokuto says with a small laugh and sits up on his ankles. He pulls his crewneck over his head and Akaashi soaks in the view, sewing the vision into his brain like it’s a photograph he wants to save forever. “Do you want them to hear you?”

Akaashi shakes his head, lifting his body so Bokuto can help him out of his own clothes. They eventually strip down to nothing and the other boy just stares. Suddenly, Akaashi feels very, very exposed, like he’s made of glass and Bokuto is searching for everything he has to hide. His arms come up to cover himself, but the white-haired boy stops him with his hands closing on his wrists, pressing them down beside him.

“You’re pretty,” he speaks, his voice quiet. Akaashi wonders how he can make him feel like there are butterflies swimming in the pit of his stomach with such simple words.

Bokuto kisses his way down from Akaashi’s exposed neck to his navel, pausing just before he reaches the heat from between his legs. “Are you okay with this?” he mumbles against Akaashi’s hip, to which he receives a hurried nod as a response. Akaashi is hard and leaking and he’s desperate for some touch.

A relieved exhale escapes past his lips when he feels Bokuto’s hand press against his length. The fingers curl around it and they give him a few slow strokes. Akaashi tilts his head down to find Bokuto staring back up at him.

“It feels good,” he says shyly, a broken whimper sounding from his throat when he feels Bokuto’s mouth around him. His thighs quiver with excitement and he feels like he’s going to come soon if the other boy doesn’t stop. As if he can sense his approach coming, Bokuto pulls off him, drawing a frustrated noise from the boy underneath.

Bokuto chuckles, grabbing the lube. “Did you want to come already?”

Akaashi glares at him, cheeks red with embarrassment. His body is so much more responsive when he hasn’t taken a dive into a pool of liquor. Every touch from Bokuto’s warm hands feel so much more intense without the numbness of alcohol, and Akaashi can’t tell if that’s supposed to be good or bad. Bokuto stretches him with ease, and though it hurts a little more than he had last remembered, it still feels good nonetheless. Akaashi wants him, there’s no denying it right now.

When Bokuto pushes in Akaashi thinks he’s going to die. He’s so full it’s incredible. It also stings, but the other boy is less rough this time, allowing him a good amount of time to adjust to his size before he’s pushing back, urging him for more.

They fall into a comfortable rhythm of hard thrusts, messy kisses, and groping hands. Akaashi can’t get over how godly Bokuto’s body is. It looks like it’s been ripped straight out of a magazine with all the defined lines and deep grooves. He squeezes the biceps, fingers pressing into tight pecs.

“Your body,” Akaashi says breathlessly between stolen kisses, “is so hot.”

As if the compliment had set something off in Bokuto, the pace picks up and Akaashi suddenly finds himself crying out loudly. A hand closes down onto his mouth, grip tight, and heat shoots straight down to his cock. The look in Bokuto’s eyes is almost feral when he recognizes the desperate glint in Akaashi’s eyes. The hand loosens, trails lower to where his neck is and gives it a small, experimental squeeze. Akaashi’s cock twitches, and then Bokuto’s hand tightens again, cutting off his airflow. The drive from his hips mixed with the feeling of sinking into his pillows brings Akaashi past his limit, seed spilling over his chest without being touched.

Bokuto comes shortly after, hands now grabbing at Akaashi’s hips with a bruising grip as he releases into the condom. His expression, twisted in pleasure and desperation, is etched into Akaashi’s memory.

They prepare for bed after they clean themselves up the best that they can (they don’t want to risk going outside where Kuroo and Tsukishima might still be watching their movie), with Akaashi wrapped in Bokuto’s big arms, back pressed into a broad chest. Akaashi doesn’t want to think, so he doesn’t. He welcomes the fatigue to settle in, growing drowsier with every passing second until he sees blackness.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thus, it starts,, and it only gets Worse

It’s become a regular thing now, and Akaashi doesn’t know how to feel about it. He would come home from lectures to find that Bokuto is already home, and they’d crash their lips against each other’s, tumbling into bed while trying to quickly rid themselves of their clothes. He’s not really sure how it came to be and he doesn’t know if it’s exactly a bad thing—not when Bokuto’s whispering into his ear telling him,  _ “Come, Keiji.” _

They’re completely normal in front of their friends, though, like nothing has changed. Akaashi doesn’t feel exactly awkward, either—quite the opposite, actually. He finds Bokuto’s presence comforting and relaxing, and it isn’t so hard acting like he didn’t just have Bokuto’s cock down his throat an hour ago.

“Where you going?” Kuroo asks, looking up from his spot on the couch. He rests his stethoscope around his neck so he can hear what Akaashi is saying. Tsukishima rolls his sleeve down, uninterested in their conversation. He probably already knows where Akaashi is going.

“Date,” he responds, not bothering to hide the boredom in his voice. “It’ll probably end soon, though.”

“Wait!” someone calls from down the hallway. Bokuto appears, dressed in a stupid disguise and ready to go. “I’m coming too.”

“You’re coming too?”

“You’re going too?”

Akaashi and Kuroo ask at the same time, bewildered. Bokuto blinks, confused. “Yeah? In case you need me to pull me out. I’ve already rehearsed what I’m going to say.”

Kuroo sputters, breaking into a loud laugh. “You just want to spy on him, don’t you?”

“Not true,” Bokuto denies with a hiss, tossing one of Kuroo’s shoes in his direction. “I’m Akaashi’s partner-in-crime!”

“Hey, hey, hey! This is very expensive!” Kuroo says, blocking the shoe with an arm before it hits him. “Go on now, idiots. Don’t wanna make your  _ date  _ wait, Akaashi.”

With a roll of his eyes, they leave their house, making their way towards a little coffee shop downtown. Bokuto trails behind him, already in character. Akaashi stops and turns on his heels. “You’re making a scene.” People are beginning to look at them awkwardly. Bokuto lifts his cap with a frown. His hair is styled down so that his cap would fit on his head without the ridiculous amount of gel in it.

“I’m just trying to play my part!” he argues, bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

“We aren’t even there yet. Plus, what if she’s nice and I don’t actually need you?” Akaashi’s pace picks up again because, as much as he dreads another one of his mom’s set-ups, he doesn’t want to make someone wait.

Bokuto is oddly quiet, though. Akaashi had expected him to say something by now, but he hasn’t. He turns his head to glance at the boy, who seems to be deep in thought, but chooses to ignore it and welcome the silence.

“Are you saying you might date her if you like her?”

Akaashi’s heart stutters. Bokuto doesn’t sound exactly happy despite the hint of feigned hopefulness in his voice. He can hear right past the facade, but he doesn’t know how to respond. He hasn’t actually thought about that. He’s still… not entirely looking for a relationship.

“Why are you still going on dates if you don’t want anything?”

The question is very familiar by now, and Akaashi still has no answer he’s comfortable with. He doesn’t know. Akaashi doesn’t know a lot of things when it comes to his own feelings, apparently. He can talk about everything else, but when it comes to this… his mind becomes a muddled mess and he can’t seem to swim through the murkiness to find what he’s searching for.

“I don’t know,” Akaashi states. He’s walking faster now, wanting to avoid the conversation. “Maybe I do want something now.”

Bokuto has stopped in his tracks, but he can see the girl waiting for him through the window now. She’s looking around nervously until her eyes land on him. He hesitates, glancing back at Bokuto whose pained expression sends a punch to Akaashi’s gut. Perhaps he had said something wrong. Was that not the right answer?

The bell above him chimes when he steps in. He meets the girl with a friendly smile, which she returns, still nervous. Something isn’t right, and Akaashi’s eyes narrow as they step into line to order something.

“Are you all right?” he asks after they settle down at a table. The bell chimes again and Akaashi looks up and past Megumi to see Bokuto walk in. They lock eyes for a quick moment before Bokuto slides into a seat nearby, just close enough for him to pick up the conversation. He drags his attention back to the girl, whose fingers close tightly around her mug. Suddenly, however, she stands up, bowing her head so low it startles Akaashi.

“I’m sorry!” she apologizes loudly. People glance in their direction—even Bokuto seems a little surprised.

“I—pardon?” Akaashi urges, “Please, sit down.”

She sits back down, looking a little more relieved, but she still refuses to meet his eyes.

“You can talk about,” he starts, unsure of his words. “I’m not really understanding.”

“I don’t want to date you,” she says quickly, finally looking up into Akaashi’s eyes with newfound determination. He blinks, confused and at a loss for words. “I was set up by my mother, but I am in love with someone else. I can not date you, Akaashi-san. I’m sorry.”

“T-That’s okay,” Akaashi comforts. The tightness in his own chest loosens, too. “I was set up by my mother, too. I understand how you feel.”

Megumi seems to relax more after hearing his words. She looks sad, though, like she doesn’t know what to do next. She reminds Akaashi of himself, in a way. “I don’t know how to tell him I love him,” she admits quietly.

“Do you… see him often?” Akaashi tries, not really sure where to direct the conversation. He’s not really the best when it comes to giving relationship advice, as he’s never been in one.

“Yes, we hang out all the time. We do everything together—he’s practically my best friend,” she explains, her frown growing deeper. “But that’s where it gets difficult, you know? I feel like one small thing might shatter our friendship and he’ll leave me forever. I don’t want to lose him, even if it means I never get to tell him how I feel.”

This all seems so familiar. “But what if he does like you back? Wouldn’t you be the happiest person on earth?”

“But is it  _ worth  _ it?” she groans in frustration, dipping her head.

“Hey,” Akaashi says, moving a hand forward to close around one of hers, “if he genuinely likes you as a friend, he would forgive you. I don’t believe he’d think differently of you if he doesn’t end up returning your feelings.” Megumi looks up slowly, eyes brimmed with tears. She looks a little more hopeful, though. “You won’t lose him if he really is as good as you say, no matter what.”

A fire burns in her eyes, bottom lips chewed between her teeth. “You’re right,” she breathes, whipping her phone out. “I’m going to do it.”

She gets up, thanks him a million times, and then apologizes for the blind date before rushing out of the coffee shop, her drink untouched. Akaashi sits there for a moment, contemplating. What is he supposed to tell his mom?

He then remembers that Bokuto is still sitting there, but he looks up to find that he is gone. His shoulders slump, a little disappointed that the white-haired boy has left already. He doesn’t want his tea anymore, so he picks up their mugs and sets it down in the wastebin after pouring out the contents. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Akaashi thinks about everything he had told Megumi. He hopes everything works out for her and he’s happy he doesn’t have to turn someone else down, so why does he feel upset?

The walk back home is slow. Akaashi keeps checking his phone for texts from Bokuto notifying him of where he might’ve gone, but there’s a good chance he’s already at home. When he steps through the front door, however, he is surprised to hear from Kuroo that he hasn’t dropped by. Akaashi shouldn’t be concerned. Bokuto is an adult. He can take care of himself—he can do whatever he wants and Akaashi has no right to stop him, but… it would’ve been nice to know where he disappeared off to.

Akaashi shakes his head. Whatever, it’s not his business anyway. He shouldn’t intrude.

Throughout the rest of the evening and well into the night, however, the white-haired boy has not left his mind once. Not even for a second. He tosses and turns in his bed, listening to the heavy silence sitting in the apartment. The front door has not clicked once since he’s been back, and his fingers are itching to send Bokuto a message asking where he’s went—whether he’s coming back soon or not.

Akaashi doesn’t try to sleep until sometime past midnight. He has given up on waiting for Bokuto to come home. At this point he’s probably not going to come home until tomorrow afternoon. It used to always be like that, and something about it makes Akaashi uncomfortable despite being so familiar with the situation.

He lets the sudden sleepiness invade his senses. It’s been a while since he’s gone to bed feeling sad. Something clicks in the distance, but Akaashi is still pulling himself out of his dream-like haze when someone opens his bedroom door and shuts it just as quickly. Bokuto climbs into his bed smelling of sweat and perfume and alcohol.

Akaashi hardly registers what’s going before a tongue is shoved down his throat aggressively and hands are pulling his shorts and boxers off. He’s half-awake when Bokuto shoves a spit-slick finger into him, drawing a surprised shout from his lips. What the hell is going on with Bokuto?

“B-Bokuto, what—”

“Shut up,” the boy says, clearly drunk. He’s rough like the first night, but Akaashi is submissive and pliant, too exhausted from being forced awake after what he estimates is an hour of sleep. Bokuto’s grip is bruising, snap of his hips relentless, and Akaashi can only take it with a hand pressing his face into a pillow. Bokuto comes inside of him with a stutter of his hips, groaning into Akaashi’s back before slipping out and collapsing next to him. Wetness spills out of him and trails down the insides of his thighs and Akaashi is appalled to find that Bokuto didn’t use a condom. He doubts the boy has anything, but with the amount of times he sleeps around Akaashi can never be sure. He’s quite awake now, standing up so as to not get anything on his sheets. Bokuto has fallen asleep on the other side of his bed, gentle, sleeping face betraying the aggressive demeanour he had displayed earlier.

Slightly annoyed, Akaashi takes a quick shower, cleaning himself the best he can before returning to his room to find that Bokuto is awake again, eyes open and staring into the ceiling. He says nothing even as Akaashi climbs into bed, turns the opposite direction, and pulls the covers over his head.

They fall asleep without touching each other, the gap between them louder than the silence that swallows the darkness of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on twt! @milkocaine


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter!

When Akaashi wakes up, Bokuto is gone. The tension in his lower back is a painful reminder of the previous night’s events. Akaashi wants to go yell at him, but Bokuto is, according to Tsukishima, nowhere to be found. His room is empty (Akaashi had to double-check just in case) and his laptop and books are gone, too. He must’ve gone out to study. But on a Saturday? It’s a little unlike him.

He slips his phone out while he boils some water for his morning—well, it’s almost afternoon, now—cup of tea.

**Akaashi**

[11:39] Are you at the library?

He waits for minutes, foot tapping impatiently. Even when studying, Bokuto typically responds to his messages immediately. Is he ignoring him? Did Akaashi do something wrong?

“Your frustration is suffocating,” Tsukishima speaks up, pen spinning wildly between his fingers. Akaashi glares at him, his face twisting into a scowl.

“He’s not responding,” Akaashi says, pouring hot water into his mug. He watches the transparency turn into a light green, then darker as it soaks up the teabag.

“Surprising,” Tsukishima states, pen gliding over paper. “He could be busy.”

Kuroo steps out of his room at this time. He yawns loudly, basketball shorts hung low on his hips. “Where’s Bokuto?”

“Wouldn’t we all love to know,” Akaashi mumbles, walking back to his room. “Also, would it kill you to put on a shirt?”

“Why?” Kuroo asks, amused. “Don’t like seeing my nipples?”

His bedroom door slams at the end of Kuroo’s sentence. To say he’s annoyed is an understatement. Akaashi sets his tea down on the table and paces around his room as if it would help get rid of his restlessness. Bokuto is definitely ignoring him, he thinks, clicking his phone on to see a screen void of any notifications. Maybe he’s overthinking, but he strongly feels it’s unfair how Bokuto can come and go as he pleases. He feels left behind, like he’s in the dark.

**Akaashi**

[11:56] Bokuto-san.

Again, nothing, even after another ten minutes. Akaashi slumps into his chair. It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s going to work on his assignments, catch up on his school life, and go through all of his emails. He can distract himself if he really wants to.

It only works in bouts, though. He studies for half an hour and then finds himself reaching for his phone again. He turns his phone face down, drinks his tea aggressively, and then the cycle repeats. He has gone up to use the washroom twice and refill his tea three times. Bokuto still hasn’t responded by the time the sun has passed its peak. His phone goes off an hour later and Akaashi nearly drops his phone trying to scramble it into his hands.

**Mom**

[17:02] How did the date go!

**Akaashi**

[17:02] Bad. I don’t want to go on any more dates.

**Mom**

[17:02] What’s the matter?

**Akaashi**

[17:03] I don’t think I’m ready.

**Mom**

[17:03] I see. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. How is school?

**Akaashi**

[17:04] It is good. I got an A on my midterm.

**Mom**

[17:04] That’s very good!

Akaashi tosses the phone onto his bed and buries his face into his hands. He feels like a mess; his jaw feels tight, it feels like there’s something weighing down on his chest, and his back needs a break from sitting for so long. Maybe he should go for a jog—yes, that will definitely help. He needs to release all of this antsiness that’s been fermenting for hours. It’ll cool his head, too. He leaves his books where they are and changes into something suitable for jogging in the chilly weather. On his way out, Kuroo and Tsukishima don’t say anything, which he’s slightly thankful for. He’s got so much pent up inside he might literally explode.

His breaths come out in little white puffs with every exhale. It had been cold but he warmed up quickly after a few minutes and is now glad that the breeze helps cool the sweat on his neck. His head is clearer now that he doesn’t have to focus on anything besides his breathing and the slight ache in his calves and thighs. The sun has set by the time he rounds the corner and arrives home. His chest heaves while trying to catch his breath. How long has he been jogging? Thirty minutes? An hour? Bokuto must be home by now. If not, he must have sent a text back. He doesn’t know—his phone had been left at home in case it distracts him too much. It would defeat the purpose of his jog if he’s stopping every once in a while to check it.

Again, the other two residents say nothing, a clear sign that Bokuto hasn’t returned yet. Akaashi can’t stop the disappointment that sits heavy in his heart and books it straight to his bedroom. He picks up his phone, breath hitching—there’s a text from Bokuto.

**Bokuto**

[17:55] yeah sorry i was at the library

**Akaashi**

[18:08] You must be studying hard to not reply to my messages.

**Bokuto**

[18:08] i told you i would get better at studying, didnt i?

**Akaashi**

[18:08] I guess you’re right. Will you be home soon?

The messages stop coming, but Akaashi feels a little less uneasy than he had been earlier today. He showers the sweat off his body and revels in the scent of his coconut shampoo. He’s been using the same shampoo for years now. He’s always had a thing for coconut-scented things—body washes, sprays, lotions. Bokuto had commented on it a few times, calling him a walking coconut, but in a similar way Akaashi enjoys his teak wood cologne, Bokuto also likes how he smells of coconut.

A small towel hangs on his head, soaking up the excess moisture, as he throws himself into his studies again. He’s a little more energetic now that there’s a runner’s high coursing through his veins, so he figures he should get some more work done. It may seem a little excessive, but Akaashi works hard to maintain straight A’s. He’s not a genius, but he likes being able to tell himself everything he’s done has paid off.

The apartment is quiet now—Tsukishima and Kuroo must either be studying really hard or have gone to bed, which Akaashi is sure is the latter. They don’t usually stay up late unless they have to, even on weekends. They’re both hard workers, like him. College is hard—you can’t really blame them, not when one is in biomedical engineering and the other in nursing. Akaashi knows psychology doesn’t exactly measure up the same way, but the major has its own challenges.

The black-haired boy is so absorbed in his studies he doesn’t hear the front door click open or hear someone step into his room quietly. It isn’t until there’s a loud drop of something heavy on his floor that he startles upright, body turning to face the source of the noise so fast his head grows dizzy.

“Bokuto,” he breathes, relieved it isn’t someone unrecognizable, “fuck, you scared me.” The other boy has his hair down, not having bothered to gel it up like usual today. He’s been having his hair down a lot recently, but Akaashi doesn’t have too much time to dwell on it before he’s being lifted to his feet with Bokuto licking his way into his mouth.

He doesn’t speak much that night, even as he presses two fingers against his hole, pushing them in without warning; even as he’s fucking into Akaashi, who lays there panting, quiet whimpers and moans slipping past wet lips.

After Bokuto comes, he would fall asleep in his bed without a goodnight. leaving Akaashi alone and messy, cum splattered all over him. It goes on for days, with Akaashi waking up to find Bokuto gone, and then Bokuto coming back late in the night to fuck him into his own mattress. Some nights, he would stay. Other nights, he would pick up his stuff and fall asleep in his own bed. Bokuto never says much anymore. On Sunday nights, where they have their game nights, he’s quieter, a little less energetic. He would talk to Kuroo and Tsukishima sometimes but have hardly any words for Akaashi.

Every night, Bokuto chips away a little bit of Akaashi’s heart, and Akaashi lets him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me @milkocaine on twt! <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i PROMISE the angst ends soon. i promise you.

“You seriously need to talk to him,” Kuroo says one morning. He’s never sounded more serious—even Akaashi is a little concerned. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two and I don’t really want to pry because I know that makes you uncomfortable, but please, for the love of our precious family of four, figure your shit out.”

Akaashi’s bag is slung over his shoulder. He’s tired of going to lecture every single day and coming home to the same routine. He had awoken this Saturday morning wanting a change of scenery; he’s going to go somewhere to study today.

“I haven’t done anything,” Akaashi responds, cleaning his mug in the kitchen sink.

_ “Exactly,” _ Kuroo emphasizes with a sigh following, “please  _ do something.” _

Frustrated, Akaashi drops his mug in the sink and turns around. “What am I supposed to do? He won’t respond to my messages—he’s not even  _ talking  _ to me. Tell me, what  _ exactly  _ am I supposed to do? It feels like nothing will get through to him.”

Kuroo heaves another sigh. “You guys are like teenagers, oh my god. He goes to your room literally every single night. Use that chance to talk to him.”

“I-I can’t.” Not when Bokuto shuts him up with a painful kiss every time Akaashi tries to open his mouth to say something. Not when Bokuto can so easily manhandle him around every time Akaashi tries to resist.

_ “Yes,  _ you can. Slap him across the face or something. He really needs to wake the fuck up,” Kuroo expressed, visibly stressed.  _ “You,  _ on the other hand, need to figure out your feelings. You both do, but you especially. It’s so hard watching you two go about when you  _ clearly  _ like each other.”

Akaashi freezes in his spot. “We don’t have any feelings for each other.”

Kuroo tosses his hands up into the air, giving up. “See? Teenagers.”

Akaashi ignores his words and, instead, focuses on the run of the water tap and lets it fill his ears rather than the tense silence. He’s never really gotten into an argument with Kuroo before. They’ve always listened to each other’s problems, providing and taking suggestions. Kuroo has hardly ever been wrong about anything, but he’s wrong this time. He doesn’t like Bokuto and Bokuto doesn’t like him either. They’re just… what do they call it? Friends? With benefits? Bokuto could never see Akaashi as something more.

He leaves the apartment without another word and spends the rest of the day holed up in an old library downtown where he hopes not to run into anyone he knows. He’s gotten a good amount of work done before deciding to leave. The sun has set already and Akaashi’s thin jacket does nothing against the howl of the wind. The nights are getting colder and the sun doesn’t always appear anymore. The weather seems to be reflecting his mood.

These days, he feels empty; hollow. Like he’s sunken into a hole of darkness and can’t get out. It’s crawling into his soul and eating away at every drop of happiness he has and he doesn’t know when it will end—if it will  _ ever  _ end. Things aren’t really looking so bright with the way his days are dragging out. Every day, he looks forward to one thing, and that’s Bokuto’s embrace, Bokuto’s sweat dripping off his chin, Bokuto’s eyes staring into his, Bokuto, Bokuto,  _ Bokuto. _ It’s tearing him apart, really. He feels a little more broken every time Bokuto finishes with him. He feels like something is being ripped out of him whenever Bokuto leaves his room at night. It’s destructive and damaging and Akaashi is just falling deeper and deeper. He wants out, but he doesn’t want to let go, either.

Akaashi is drained by the time he gets home. Fatigue sits heavy behind his eyelids when he takes his shoes off, not bothering to line them up properly. A clutter of noise sounds from the dining table and Kuroo is suddenly storming towards him, panic flashing through his face.

“Akaashi,” he says, slightly breathless, “you’re back.”

He pauses, seeing that Tsukishima has also gotten out of his spot to join them.

“Uh, yes. I am,” is all he musters. This is incredibly unusual and he’s a little intrigued, but all he really wants at the moment is some sleep. A noise sounds from somewhere down the hallway. Akaashi’s heart drops.

“Bokuto is home?” he asks, eyes flickering between Kuroo’s and Tsukishima’s.

“Well, yeah,” Kuroo responds, struggling to find his words.

Tsukishima seems to pick up on his complication, so he speaks for him. “You should head to Hinata’s for tonight. We can walk you there.”

“What?” Akaashi asks. “Why?” Why should he go to Hinata’s? What’s going on? He steps past them, but they don’t really make a move to stop him. His feet feel like stone as he draws nearer, but he forces them to move. There’s something pounding, but it takes Akaashi a moment to realize it’s his own heartbeat. He doesn’t even notice the shake in his hands as he roughly turns the handle to Bokuto’s room, light spilling into the darkness.

The movements stop. There’s a girl on top of Bokuto, who scrambles for his covers with a curse to hide her nakedness. Bokuto, however, freezes when their eyes meet. His eyes are wide, lips dropping open as if he wants to say something. But he doesn’t.

Akaashi should have prepared himself. He should have because this is bound to happen. He’s seen it a hundred times—in his dreams, when he wakes up, when he goes to bed, when he’s studying, when he’s in his lectures. It replays over and over in his head, multiple times a day, but the only thing he could have never noticed is the sound of his heart shattering, dropping into a million pieces until all that remains is gaping darkness.

He’s unable to manage even a single word out before he’s rushing back down the hallway, shoving past the two who stay rooted by the front door, and out the door. He doesn’t hear Bokuto calling after him; he doesn’t hear anything except for the ringing in his ears and the erratic rhythm in his chest.

Akaashi is outside somewhere, doesn’t know where, but the streets are empty and nobody’s around to hear him finally break down into full sobs. Everything that he has holed up inside of him—the frustration, the anger, the resentment—comes spilling out in every tear that slides down his cheek. He cries for so long he doesn’t know what time it is anymore. He cries so hard his throat is hoarse. He cries so much his eyes are dry and his vision remains blurry even after having nothing left to cry anymore. He feels empty now, like a lifeless soul wandering the streets. He’s lost, walking without a destination. Bokuto is everything he ever wanted—everything he’s ever had—and he lost it, just like that. Because of what? He’s too stupid to talk about it. Too ignorant of his own feelings to deal with them. Too prideful of himself to think anything like this could ever happen.

And now it’s too late.

Kuroo had been right, he should have figured out how he felt earlier.

And he hates that it took tonight’s bomb-drop for him to realize it, but Kuroo had also been wrong. He doesn’t just like Bokuto.

He loves him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello !! really sorry this took so long. i had some stuff going on and ALSO I AM OFFICIALLY 19 !!!!! i hate being an adult oops
> 
> to make up for the wait, this chapter will be Extra spicy (and long, kinda)

Akaashi finds himself outside of Hinata’s and Kageyama’s place. They must have heard about what happened from Kuroo because Hinata pulls him into a big, welcoming hug. Akaashi clumps into his smaller figure, fingers closed around his shirt. They welcome him in and Kageyama makes tea for him while Hinata piles covers upon covers on top of him, scared he’ll get cold throughout the night.

“Please don’t cry, Akaashi-san,” Hinata says, concern stitched all over his face. “Bokuto-san is a big meanie, he doesn’t deserve you if he’s going to ruin your beautiful face with all these tears.”

Akaashi offers a small smile, hand curling tightly around Hinata’s. He’s so thankful for these two he doesn’t know how to express it. He hadn't known where else to go. Kageyama sets his tea down on the coffee table before taking a seat between them, forming a triangle.

“If Kageyama makes you cry like this, I’ll punch him,” Akaashi says, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. Hinata laughs, but Kageyama smacks him behind his head.

“Shut up, idiot. Let Akaashi-san get some sleep.”

“No,  _ you!” _

The two continue to bicker even as they enter their room. Akaashi finishes his tea rather quickly, the liquid soothing like honey over the dryness of his throat. The futon is surprisingly comfortable, but he isn’t sure if it’s because of the material or if it’s because he’s so exhausted. Either way, it overwhelms him and he falls asleep quickly. For the first time in a long time, Akaashi hopes he doesn’t wake up for a while.

Not all dreams come true, though, because a loud banging on the door shakes Akaashi from his slumber. The sky is light orange, the sun just about to peek over the horizon. Kageyama is the one to reach the door, slightly disoriented from being awoken from his slumber, and the grimace that forms on his face after looking through the peephole tells Akaashi it’s someone he doesn’t want to see right now.

He cracks the door open just a little. “Bokuto-san,” he says.

“Is Akaashi here? Let me see him.”

Bokuto can’t see Akaashi from where he is, but the voice is thunderous throughout the apartment. Akaashi sinks back into his covers, staring at the wall in front of him. The left side of his chest hurts like someone had reached in under his ribcage, fingers groping for the muscle only to give it a tight, relentless squeeze. He presses his eyes shut and pulls the covers higher over his face.

“He’s not here, go home,” Kageyama tells him, beginning to shut the door. Bokuto’s hand stops him, except Kageyama is strong, too.

“Please, Kageyama, I know he’s here. Just let me talk to him.”

“Go _home_ ,” he repeats, forcing the door shut and clicking the lock in place. “He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.”

Akaashi is unable to fall asleep, mind consumed by so many emotions he doesn't even know what he's feeling anymore. The mental fatigue catches him quickly and he finds himself dozing off again, the tightness in his chest never letting up.

Akaashi stays at Hinata’s and Kageyama’s place for three days. His phone has died and he refuses to charge it. Hinata updates Kuroo on how he’s doing but has consistently left Bokuto on read, telling everyone that “he deserves it.” They make him food, let him use the shower, and offer Kageyama’s clean clothes, which fit slightly big on him, but he doesn’t mind. This is more than enough. In fact, this is  _ too  _ much. He doesn’t know how he can ever repay the two.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, all of them gathered around the living room to play some games. They look up at him, understanding where his apology is coming from.

“Don’t be,” Hinata says. “I’m sorry, too. Bokuto-san shouldn’t have done something like that.”

“It’s… not his fault,” Akaashi admits, gaze dropping to a spot on the floor. It's his first time talking aloud about his own feelings in regard to Bokuto. “I couldn’t come to terms with how I feel. I didn’t know how he felt—I still don’t know, but it’s not his fault.”

Kageyama glances at Hinata with uncertainty before speaking up, “I-I think you should talk to him. It sounds like a very big and painful misunderstanding. It might be a good idea to just… I don’t know, clear it up?”

Akaashi hesitates. He doesn’t know what he wants to do, but he’s already made that mistake. For some reason, his conversation with Megumi comes back, setting off alarms in his head. God, how could he be so stupid? How does he give advice like that to someone he hardly knows without having the balls to do it himself?

“I will,” he says, surprised at the sound of his own voice. It’s got a little fire in it, but it dies down just as quickly. “Just… not right now. I’ll be leaving tonight, though.”

“Are you sure?” Hinata asks, staring into his face. Akaashi has seen himself in the mirror—he does  _ not  _ look good. Dark circles have formed from the lack of sleep and the amount of time he has spent staying up thinking. His complexion has grown a little grey and his eyes appear to have lost the lustre of their colour.

“Yes. I feel bad for imposing. Your hospitality has been amazing. I also… do need to talk to Bokuto,” he explains, voice decreasing to just barely a whisper at the thought of having to confront the other boy.

“You aren’t imposing at all! We will always be here to support you,” Hinata beams.

“But,” Kageyama says, hand clamping down on Hinata’s shoulder, “we understand. This place is always an option if it ever gets… too much. You are always welcome back here, Akaashi-san.”

“Thank you, really,” Akaashi repeats. They finish a round of Uno before Akaashi decides to head home. The walk back is faster than expected with the anxiety crawling on every inch of his body. He slows his footsteps the nearer he gets to the apartment, suddenly not wanting to be here anymore. He’s not ready to talk to Bokuto, despite what he had told Hinata and Kageyama. He just really needs to go home. He seriously did feel like he had been imposing, especially because they have their own lives to live. Plus, he’s missed two days of lectures. If he lets this keep up, he’s going to be failing all of his classes. However, it’ll mean he gets to throw himself into more studying again—anything to get Bokuto off his mind.

Their apartment sounds scarily empty when he presses his ear against the door. There’s no shuffling or talking. It sounds lifeless, like the space has been vacant for months. He slips his key into the lock, turning quietly until it makes a soft click, and then pushes inside. The apartment is dark with all the lights turned off. No one must be home.

Akaashi’s sigh is one of relief. He still makes sure to be quiet, though, in case they’re all just in bed, though he doubts it. It’s a little too early for any of them to be sleeping. There isn’t any light coming out from under any of their doors, he notices, slipping quietly down the hallway. He's passed Bokuto's door now, almost at the threshold of his own room, when a deep, tired voice echoes down through the empty space.

“Keiji.”

Akaashi freezes, mouth running dry. His anxiety prickles on his skin like pins and needles and he feels like throwing up. He refuses to meet Bokuto, determined to make it all the way to his room. He’s walking fast, but Bokuto is walking faster. He can hear the thud of his footsteps closing in on him.

“Stop,” he says, voice coming out shaky. He doesn't turn to face the other boy. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

He locks his door when he gets to his room, thankful that Bokuto has slipped back into his own room. He’ll talk to him, just not right now. He’ll talk to him eventually. He’s figured it out now, he just needs to resolve this. Things will go back to normal. They’ll be friends again. He’s going to tell Bokuto that they need to stop having sex because he’ll never get over the feelings he has for the other boy. He needs to tell him that they have to maintain their distance like they’ve always had so Akaashi can fall out of love with him. He knows exactly what he has to do and what he has to say, just— _not right now_. Not when his hands are shaking and his stomach is turning; not when he’s about to break down into his woeful cries. He needs to be strong so that they can both get over this little bump in their friendship.

Ten minutes later, Akaashi is still sitting on the floor, back leaned against the door. He hears the footsteps coming up to his room, feels the vibrations of every knock against the surface, and hears the familiar voice despite the words being spoken so quietly.

“Akaashi, please,” the voice begs. “I’m sorry.”

His sadness melts away quickly. The lump in his throat clears and his head is consumed by something more than just heartache. Bokuto is _sorry?_ He wants to laugh. The lifelessness in his eyes is overtaken by something darker—something _scarier—_ and Akaashi is suddenly seeing red. Forget everything he told himself he would say. Fuck all of that. He’s not thinking anymore, he’s letting his feelings guide him, and he's too far into it to prevent it. He stomps up on his feet and unlocks the door to swing it open. The force of it causes the door to slam into its spring but Akaashi stops it from bouncing closed with a shaky hand against the wood.

_ “Sorry?” _ Akaashi repeats, disbelief colouring his tone. “What exactly are you sorry for? Avoiding me? Ignoring all of my messages? Not letting me speak a  _ single  _ word to you while you’re inviting yourself into my room every night to fuck and leave? What part of that are you sorry about?  _ Tell me, Koutarou.” _

It’s the first time he’s ever raised his voice like this—so full of anger; of  _ red.  _ Bokuto seems shocked, and Akaashi actually does laugh this time. He’s so unlike himself right now, but he’s never been this upset by something. Never in his life did he think he’d ever see this side of him, but, of course, Bokuto is the one to draw it out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, like he doesn’t know what else to say. The silence is deafening and Akaashi discovers that he’s actually crying moments after his first tears have already dropped to the floor. He lets himself go in front of Bokuto, vulnerable, like an open book. He can stare, watch him cry himself ugly, and Akaashi doesn’t care. He wants Bokuto to witness all that he’s suffered, the pain he’s gone through every single day, from the first moments of awkwardness to the submissiveness of his body after Bokuto has left his mark on him multiple times, over and over, like a scab being reopened again and again.

“I hate you,” he cries, “I hate you so much.”

“Keiji, I—”

“I hate you, I  _ hate  _ you. You hurt me  _ so badly,  _ did you know that, Koutarou? You hurt me every day and don’t even care. You let me fall into a hole and won’t help me out even when I try to call your name. Don’t you hear me at all? Can't you hear me asking you? You never try to listen. You just care about yourself. You’re a selfish bastard ‘cause all you know how to do is take what you want and then leave. You don’t care about the mess you leave behind. You don’t care about me at all.

“You break people like they’re things. You hit them and kick them and punch them and when you’re finally satisfied, you don’t even glance back. Look at me, Koutarou,” he whimpers and gives the best smile he can manage, but it comes out as a grimace. “Look at the mess you've made of me. I let you have everything and you took it all. Do you know how empty I feel these days? Do you know how much I miss just sitting next to you? You, playing your stupid games while I sit on your bed and study you. I’ve watched you for so,  _ so  _ long. I can memorize the feel of your face if I close my _eyes._

“Did you know that, Koutarou? Did you know that I hated all the times we’ve slept together because all I could think about after was whether or not I meant something more than all those other people you bring home? Were you even the slightest bit aware of how I felt?”

Bokuto’s chest heaves and he steps forward. “What about you?” he asks, the volume of his voice climbing. Akaashi takes a few steps back but his body language tells the other boy he isn't phased. “Were you ever aware of how  _ I  _ felt for you?”

“Oh,  _ shut up. _ You sound stupid. You’re contradicting yourself. You think you felt things for me? Did you also feel things for that girl you were with when I walked in on you, then? All you want is attention and sex, and the  _ one night  _ I wasn’t home, you bring home some  _ someone else _ —”

“That’s  _ not  _ all I want!” Bokuto nearly yells. His whole body shakes with his words. His hair falls over his eyes, dark and impatient. He pauses, hands raised to rub at his eyelids. It’s now that Akaashi realizes how much of a mess Bokuto is. His hair hasn’t been tamed and the darkness rimming his eyes rivals Akaashi’s. His shirt is wrinkled like he has been in bed all day, and he looks so,  _ so  _ tired.

“Then tell me,” Akaashi says, voice lowered to a broken whisper, “what is it that you want? I don’t have much left to give, Koutarou—”

“I want you.”

“I’ve already given myself to—”

“You don’t  _ understand,” _ Bokuto speaks over him. He walks up to him until they’re standing face-to-face, dark eyes staring into darker ones. Bokuto’s pupils are blown wide, gold hardly visible. He grabs onto Akaashi’s arms like his life depends on it.

“I don’t,” Akaashi states, determined not to let Bokuto curl him around his finger again. He shakes the grip off of him and resists the next round of tears threatening to fall. “I don’t understand at all. I’ve never understood, but I dealt with it by myself because the only person I could depend on—the only person I have depended on  _ my entire life _ —wasn’t there for me when I needed him. I  _ needed _ you—I needed  _ you, _ and you couldn’t be there for me—no, you  _ refused _ to be there for me when _I needed_ _ you! _ Tell me  _ how  _ exactly I could have understood when you didn’t want to talk to me or listen to me.”

“It’s not like that, Keiji,” Bokuto sounds a little more tired now; like this argument has been draining him. Well, it’s been draining Akaashi, too, but he’s too riled up now to let it all go. He’s already spoken, it’s too late to take anything back now that his honest feelings are out.

“Then  _ what  _ is it? Why are you doing all of this? Why are you doing this to me? Why do you want to make me  _ suffer  _ so bad—”

_ “Because I love you!” _ Bokuto yells, his veins prominent in his neck. He's crying too, for the first time in a long time. His voice cracks with his next words, “I never wanted to make you suffer. I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so  _ sorry,  _ Keiji.” The tears drop off his chin and Akaashi sobs, crouching to the floor to hug his knees so that he doesn't have to look the other boy in the face anymore. Why does it hurt him so much to see Bokuto cry? Why does it feel like he’s lost? Why?  _ Why? _

“Please,” Bokuto begs, dropping to the floor to cup Akaashi’s cheeks in his hands. He tilts it upward, forcing Akaashi to look at him. “Listen to me.”

Akaashi sniffles, back of his hand wiping at the hot tears on his cheeks, and turns his head away. He hates seeing Bokuto cry—has always hated it; hates it more knowing he’s the reason for it. Bokuto lifts him off the floor with Akaashi’s arms tight behind his neck, head curled into his chest.

They lay down in Akaashi's bed, Bokuto hugging him so tightly it’s as if Akaashi will run off somewhere if he loosened his grip even a little. “I’m sorry,” Bokuto repeats, voice clearing up. He presses a kiss to the top of Akaashi’s head. “Are you tired? We can talk tomo—”

“No,” he cuts him off. The familiar feeling of Bokuto's lip set his nerves alight. “Talk now.”

It takes a moment for Bokuto to gather his thoughts and, even then, they come out a little jumbled. “I wasn’t good at dealing with my feelings. I thought I would be able to handle it, but seeing you with Atsumu that night, I… I don’t know what came over me. I got angry. I wanted to punch him, but I held back because I just—I wanted  _ you.  _ I always thought it wasn’t hard to see how much I liked you, but I guess you’re pretty oblivious.”

“You’re just as oblivious,” Akaashi mutters. "How could I have known? You make it very hard to tell."

“Are you confessing to me right now?”

“Shut up. Continue your explanation. I haven’t forgiven you.” And it’s true. He’s fully aware of how much Bokuto had hurt him and, ideally, he doesn’t want to forgive him so easily—especially not when they’re his own feelings he can’t figure out. But Akaashi is partly at fault, too. Their lack of communication had led to this and Akaashi continued to deny his feelings as well. He also just really misses Bokuto. He really misses everything about him—everything about being together, sitting together, talking, studying, laughing, and simply _ being with him. _ He’s just so tired of feeling sad and Bokuto makes him feel so _warm._

“I guess you’re right, then. I’m also pretty oblivious. It never crossed my mind that you could have returned my feelings. I didn’t think it was possible to have a chance with you. You never seemed to mind when I slept around. You were always out on dates. It just… didn’t add up to a good outcome, you know? I thought, even after all this time, I would be able to get over my feelings for you, but I couldn’t, so I came every night because I missed you so much. I just—I thought it was the only chance I ever had to be with you intimately.

“I… was incredibly selfish. I didn’t want to think about how I felt. I didn’t want to hear you say anything in case you would push me away and that was so,  _ so  _ wrong of me. I didn’t want to be rejected. I was selfish and careless, and I was scared to deal with the aftermath of my actions, and that resulted in hurting you. I’m so sorry, Keiji. I’m so,  _ so  _ sorry.”

Akaashi listens to and hears every single word out of Bokuto’s mouth. His fingers close around the fabric of Bokuto’s graphic tee, his own heart twisting. He’s put Bokuto in a lot of pain, too, he realizes. How long has this boy liked him for? Akaashi is lying if he says he’s noticed.

“It’s okay,” it comes out as a whisper, partially muffled by Bokuto’s chest. He’s still upset, but this is somewhat cathartic; the comfort he finds in Bokuto’s arms despite having just cursed him straight to Hell is relieving. He feels like he has been pulled out from under a collapsed pillar. “I’m sorry, too.”

“No, don’t. I was stupid. I fucked up so badly I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but if there’s a God somewhere out there listening to my prayers, please, please,  _ please  _ allow this pretty angel in my arms, Akaashi Keiji, to forgive Bokuto Koutarou, for I have sinned greatly and—”

“You’re so annoying,” Akaashi says, pulling himself closer to the boy. “I forgive you.”

“Really?” Bokuto exclaims, pushing himself up to stare down at the black-haired boy. “Do you really?”

“Mhmm,” Akaashi hums, closing his eyes to melt into the warmth. This is okay. This is new and this is different, and Akaashi still has a hard time believing things are going to be okay again, but there's just something about Bokuto that makes him feel like all is sound in this world. Maybe he had forgiven him too easily—too quickly—but he doesn't care right now. He misses Bokuto so much he thinks he might cry again.

“Does this mean we can have sex now?”

And he's back. A small grin plays on Akaashi's lips, suddenly finding himself very fatigued. “No, I want to make you suffer a little longer.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll take it as a yes.”

It’s silent now, and Bokuto’s even breaths from above him tell him he’s fallen asleep. He can’t blame him, though. There’s something about crying that drains you mentally, and Akaashi is beginning to feel the exhaustion soak into his veins, too.

Before he submits to it, he mumbles into Bokuto’s chest.

“I love you, Koutarou.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah Yes, it's Done. i will have one more chapter so that we can end with some Good Good and FLUFF. we always need to wrap up with fluff hehe.
> 
> have a good day!!


	14. Chapter 14

For the first time in a long time, Akaashi is happy to wake up. Bokuto’s chest is warm against his cheek like sunshine on a fresh spring morning and he can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat so clearly it’s grounding. He refuses to move, not wanting to disturb the other boy from his sleep, even when his neck begins to prickle with sweat and his shoulder starts to numb from laying on it for so long. When the heat finally feels like it’s suffocating Akaashi with two tangible arms around his neck, he flips the covers off to slide his window up a little, letting the morning—afternoon?—breeze in. He shuts his blinds closed, no longer wanting the sun shining on their sleeping bodies.

Bokuto stirs, mumbling something into his pillows. His words are hardly coherent. “Where you go?”

Akaashi slides back into bed, forgoing his covers, and wraps an arm around the other boy, fingers playing with the cotton shirt. “I’m right here,” he responds, rubbing his face into Bokuto’s chest. They stay like that for a few more minutes, Bokuto’s audible breaths the only thing he hears, until Bokuto finally speaks up again.

“I feel like I can sleep here forever,” he says, sighing into Akaashi’s hair.

“We’ve missed our lectures today.”

“First thing in the morning and you’re going to nag at me?”

Akaashi hums comfortably. “It’s too easy.”

“So mean, ‘kaashi.”

“It’s not my fault—”

Akaashi’s door slams open and he nearly yelps if not for Bokuto’s arms curling tighter around him protectively.

“I fucking  _ knew  _ it,” Kuroo says in his blue scrubs, lips curling into his familiar smirk. He leans smugly against the door, arms crossed over his chest. “I can’t believe I’m witnessing young love. Ah, what a time to be alive.”

“You sound like a grandpa,” Akaashi comments, turning his head back to glare at their intruder. “Why aren’t you at your lectures?”

“I already went. My next class is in half an hour. Anyways, came to tell you I made lunch, but also to see if you idiots made up,” he tells them dismissively before making his departure. “Please don’t let my hearty cooking get cold because you guys can’t keep your hands off each other! Love you, byeeee,” he blows a kiss before closing the door with a soft click. Akaashi slumps back into his pillow with a groan.

“I am never keeping my door unlocked again.”

“Okay! I’ll climb in through your window,” Bokuto says, his smile so bright it rivals the sun. Akaashi finds that he doesn’t mind, not at all.

  
  
  


“Where were you yesterday?” Akaashi asks that night. They’re all gathered around the living room, Monopoly board out on the floor in front of them. It’s a Wednesday but Akaashi had really wanted to play, surprising all three of his roommates. It’s not his fault, though. Despite being away for only three days, it has been much longer since he’s felt so content. He misses them like crazy—even Tsukishima, though he’ll never say it aloud.

“Ah, Hinata messaged me saying you had left, so Tsukki and I just decided to go out for a bit,” Kuroo muses, moving his piece up the board.

“On a date?” Bokuto asks, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly.

“No,” Tsukishima deadpans.

“Awe, Tsukki! It was a date, don’t deny it.”

A string of curses falls from the blonde’s lips as he struggles to get Kuroo’s arms off him, hand pressed against the face that’s going in for a big kiss. Akaashi gags internally—Kuroo can be too much sometimes. If Bokuto ever does something like that, he will—

“Keiji! Give me a kiss too!”

He sputters and leans back from Bokuto’s grabby hands. “Don’t touch me.”

“But you give me kisses all the time. How come you’re always so sweet and pliant in bed but—”

“Oh my god, shut up, please.”

Kuroo and Tsukishima have stopped bickering and are now enjoying the scene before them, snickering behind raised hands. Akaashi flushes, shuffling away from the white-haired boy before ordering that the game continues.

Their lives continue like this, easy and pleasant. Akaashi spends every second of his free time with Bokuto, they play games together and, true to Bokuto’s words, study together. He always finds something to be distracted by but Akaashi pulls him right back to his studies. Bokuto aces his midterms without having to cram everything on the nights before and Akaashi no longer has trouble sleeping and staying asleep, not when Bokuto embraces him every night with warm arms and a goodnight kiss.

As the days progress, students on campus begin to feel jittery with winter break around the corner. Akaashi doesn’t worry too much about it, though, as he’s sure he will see Bokuto every day anyway.

“I love you, Keiji,” he says one night while they’re laying in bed. It comes out of nowhere and Akaashi keeps flickering between the two golden orbs staring at him as if he’s searching for any secrets hidden below the bright shine.

“Since when?” he whispers, curious to know.

“Sometime last year, I think. I wasn’t one hundred percent certain until your date with Megumi,” he replies, his voice gentle. A hand comes up to cup Akaashi’s cheek, thumb brushing over the corner of his lips.

“Did you hear everything that day?”

“Almost,” Bokuto responds. Then, after a brief moment of silence, “Are you going to say it back?”

“I love you, too.”

This time, it’s Bokuto to throw his question back at him, a cheesy smile gracing his lips. “What about you? Since when?”

Akaashi actually has to think about it. He hadn’t fully come to terms with his feelings until that one night he stormed out on everyone but, now that he thinks about it, he might have been crushing on Bokuto for way, way longer. “Since Mika, maybe.” Akaashi has always been good at pushing his feelings away but he remembers how his heart had picked up when Bokuto introduced him to his high school girlfriend. He doesn’t know how he put up with it for three years but was definitely better at it then than now. Perhaps Bokuto has softened him too much, except he doesn’t mind. Nothing can bother him right now—save for the fact that Bokuto is silently growing quite hard, the heat of his length pressing into Akaashi’s thigh.

“Are you serious? Right now?”

Catching onto Akaashi’s expression, Bokuto rolls to hover over him with a cheeky grin. Akaashi wants to wipe it off with a smack but the other boy leans down to nip the soft skin of his neck.

“Can’t help it. You’re too cute.”

“Go jerk off in the corner,” he mutters despite being trained on the way Bokuto licks into his mouth. He submits to the kiss easily, fingers curling into the soft strands of bleached hair at the nape of the other boy’s neck. They trail forward, dragging gently over Bokuto’s clothed chest. He tightens his hold over it, giving it a gentle pull. “Can we take this off?”

“What happened to jerking off in the corner?” Bokuto muses as he sits back, sliding his t-shirt off easily. Akaashi revels at the sight, missing the press of the other boy’s body against his despite it always having beenrough and desperate for something they couldn’t have identified. This time Akaashi knows it’ll be different. This time it’ll be less rushed—it’ll be sweet and yearning for everything they thought they could never have except they  _ can. _ They’re here, together, and it’s happening.

Akaashi pulls him right back, lips a centimetre from each other. “Don’t you know how to be a little bit sexier?” Bokuto leans down to lick back in, the touch familiar and warm and everything he can dream of.

“If you don’t love me at my worst you can’t love me at my best—”

Akaashi shuts him off with a grumble about  _ idiot Bokuto _ and the reattachment of his mouth tracing along the skin at the boy’s forearm. He leans up into a sitting position, hands pressing against the smooth, strong chest until they end up where their feet had been with the black-haired boy snug and comfortable in Bokuto’s lap.

“Akaashi, what—”

“Shh,” he hushes, a long digit dragging against Bokuto’s plump lips. “Let me make you feel good.” And he does—with quick work of getting rid of their clothes, cold hands pressed into strong thighs, and tongue dragging along Bokuto’s right hip bone. The sound the white-haired boy makes when Akaashi takes him into his mouth is music to his ears and he wants  _ more,  _ sliding down so far the tip of the cock hits the back of his throat. Akaashi chokes but refuses to move, saliva dripping down the sides of his mouth and coating the rest of what he can’t reach. He inhales sharply, tongue sliding against its underside as he drags back up to swallow him deeper than before.

“Keiji,” Bokuto grunts, muffled through tight fingers. “Keiji,  _ please,  _ don’t stop, I—it feels  _ so good.” _   


Akaashi hums, the sound sending vibrations up to the other male, and sucks like Bokuto's the only one in the world to impress. It’s when the hips stutter under the press of his fingertips with warning that he slides off with a pop, lips red and tears threatening to spill at the corners of his eyes. He reaches for the bottle of lube and a condom (because, as much as he loves Bokuto, he still wants to practise safe sex), popping the lid open and allowing the wetness to drip down onto his fingers.

Bokuto watches him hungrily when Akaashi reaches behind himself to press a digit past the tight ring of muscles, eyebrows stitching together for a brief moment at the new sensation. It’s not enough, though—it’s nothing compared to Bokuto’s thicker ones. A small moan leaves his mouth when he pushes another one in.

“Let me do it.” Bokuto’s voice is gravelly with desperation, hands nudging the black-haired boy to turn around for him. Akaashi straddles him the other way, bending forward to allow access for the other boy while wrapping a hand around Bokuto’s length.

He hears the lid pop open and, impatiently, wiggles himself backward as a hint. Bokuto slips a finger inside and Akaashi pushes back immediately. “Not enough,” he pants out, working himself back on the single digit, “more.”

“You’re so needy."

Akaashi mewls at the sudden intrusion of another finger, far thicker than his own two. His hand rests at the base of Bokuto’s cock, squeezing gently before leaning down to take him back into his mouth. The boy underneath him releases a surprised moan, movement of his fingers stuttering. Akaashi pushes back again as his tongue laps at his spit that has dripped down the sides.

The third finger goes in and, seconds later, Akaashi is already wanting. He needs  _ Bokuto. _ He removes his mouth, turning around to situate himself on top of the other boy’s hips, and aligns himself up with Bokuto’s length. He sinks down slowly, a pair of strong hands flying to tighten around his waist with a bruising grip. The hiss Bokuto releases when Akaashi plants himself straight down is coupled with the raven-haired boy’s breathy whimper.

Akaashi lifts his hip and slides himself down, lidded eyes trained on the way Bokuto’s face twists in pleasure. He leans down while his hips continue their movement and connects their lips together to engage in a meeting of teeth, tongues, and technicolour sparks.  Bokuto lifts his legs, feet digging into the mattress, and gives two slow thrusts, causing Akaashi to topple forward onto his two arms supporting him up.

“K-Koutarou,” he whispers, face pressing into the side of his neck. He drags his lips against Bokuto’s cheek and exhales hotly, meeting the thrusts halfway with his own hips. Akaashi rides him like this, unhurried and full of desperate touches—of teeth biting into taut skin, fingernails desiring strong muscles, and cries of  _ love;  _ of  hushed and honeyed hymns that sing appreciation, tenderness, and  _ passion. _

“I love you,” Akaashi speaks, certain of it now. “I love you so,  _ so  _ much.”

“C’mere,” Bokuto pants, gentle touches roping him into a sweetness so rich of adoration Akaashi cries. He tastes like brand new days and tranquil nights; kisses him with so much fervour it’s a promise of no more sad songs. He pulls away just enough for Bokuto's words to be murmured against his lips, “I love you, too.”

When they both fall asleep that night, bodies together and hearts forever entwined, Akaashi thinks about what he’s done in his past life to be the luckiest person on earth right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we are done!
> 
> i hope everyone enjoyed this! thank you all for the time you've spent on this piece—i really have so much love to all of you who stuck through this with me. i appreciate your time, comments, and support to the ENDS of this world (and our world is very big!)
> 
> i have many works in line for publishing after this one.
> 
> how do we feel about iwasemi next? let me know what you think about this rare-pair because i love them s o much!
> 
> again!!! thank you so much for reading this <3
> 
> twt: @milkocaine (18+ / as are my fics)  
> insta: @confettitty (personal, i don't mind having some friends!)


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